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teen poems

il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
le maître des destins humains suis moi
pourrions nous mais savoir
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
je vous chante
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse

 



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