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sister poem

quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
tristement parlant
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
j'au-dessus-avais préparé l'événement
les chansons antiques
il y a une heure du repos paisible

 



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