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sad poetry

exister de cygne
les poèts le disent
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
je suis allé à travers les rues
le corps peut confiner
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
homme froid sévère
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
avec la joie et la merveille

 



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