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doux comme lit dans la terre
glooms des vivre-chênes
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
les vieilles chansons
travails de la terre
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
un oiseau a chanté

 



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