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là où je trouvez-vous
ombres à ailes balayant près
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
n'accrochez aucune guirlande
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
ne tournez pas votre tête
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
je vois tous les esprits humains

 



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