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friend poem

exister de cygne
frère, je suis le feu
nous avons aucune honte?
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
pour puis en dehors

 



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