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funeral poem

exprimons nos passions plus basses
environ porté plainte au maître
en ce moment
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
c'est le bateau de la perle
dans des nombres mournful
dans le port de New York
doucement maintenant la lumière du jour
dans la terre silencieuse
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or

 



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