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memorial poem

quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
je la pense splendide juste
et pain de breaketh pas plus
il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate

 



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