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le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trne d'or
elle a clat le vin froce
dans le port de New York
je meurs
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
comme lui qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
il parle pas bien
le long des banques
trs bien, vous libraux
j'ai vu avec les yeux ouverts
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'tends compltement

 



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