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erotic poetry

sous la lune de moisson
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
le maître des destins humains suis moi
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
indéfiniment
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit

 



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