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romantic poetry

en dessous de cette tombe modeste un conqueror se trouve
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
dans le port de New York
beaux, tragical visages
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
il y a mille années silencieuses
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour

 



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