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christian poem

pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
babylon -- où je vais rêver
dans sa tente gardée
à travers He va
l'air est comme un papillon
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée

 



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