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wedding poem

la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
je me tiens par temps gris froid
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
le plus triste de l'année
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
environ porté plainte au maître
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
je ne prie pas pour la paix

 



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