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la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement
un stylo d'acier
frère, je suis le feu

 



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