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thanksgiving poetry

ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
environ porté plainte au maître
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
dans toutes les choses non parlées de
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
composé seul du loveliness
pourrions nous mais savoir
il y a un pays complètement de vin

 



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