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romantic poem

j'ai aimé une femme
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
fleurs des bébés
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
ne tournez pas votre tête
sous la barre du guerrier
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
serene d'après-midi et lumineux verts
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux

 



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