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suicide poem

je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
splendide et terrible votre amour
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
j'ai eu un rêve et je me suis réveillé avec lui
si perdu
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré

 



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