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l'aube était vert pomme
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
je l'aime
l'obscurité
les poèts le disent
avec le coucher du soleil
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue

 



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