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spanish poem

il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
les ombres des bateaux
seule
dans le port de New York
treize ans toujours
c'est l'arsenal
frère, je suis le feu
il y a trois manières dont les hommes prennent
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles

 



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