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il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
gloom
je me tiens par temps gris froid
dans pouvez
nuit mystérieuse
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
du soleil ni des étoiles
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
vous dites que vous m'aimez
étaient elle pas pour cette odeur singulière

 



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