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sorry poem

homme froid sévère
je ne brûle aucun encens
remplacez la vision du plaisir
je vous chante
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
en septembre
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
splendide et terrible votre amour
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
vieux vin à boire
les vieilles chansons
quand vous venez ce soir

 



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