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sad poetry

nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
dans votre vol
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
je remplis cette tasse

 



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