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je me tiens par temps gris froid
chantez-encore à la chanson vous chanté
élever, comme vent a soufflé
les petites prières blanches
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
un orage monte sur la marée
je ne prie pas pour la paix
avant le saint en bronze solennel
en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
plantons

 



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