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daughter poem

beaux, tragical visages
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
j'ai moulé le monde
pour puis en dehors
du soleil ni des étoiles
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds

 



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