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angel poem

son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
écoutez la mer retentissante
un mille derrière
à minuit
laissez une subsistance de joie vous
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
dans toutes les choses non parlées de
le ciel
un avec vous
plantons
il y a mille années silencieuses
à partir des prés riches avec du maïs
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux

 



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