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erotic poetry

les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
je ne prie pas pour la paix
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
une brume entraînait une réduction
vécu à côté de la rive
les vieilles chansons
passé persistant de thou
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
dans votre vol
de la chanson et du rêve pour jamais allé

 



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