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erotic poem

je suis vieux et aveugle
gloom
à minuit
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
glooms des vivre-chênes
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
le long des banques

 



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