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son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
je ne brûle aucun encens
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
plantons
tous apaisent le long du potomac
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange

 



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