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narrative poetry

les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
dans le port de New York
ce que je souhaite remarquer
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
frère, je suis le feu
je sais ce que vous allez dire
ville qui n'est pas une ville
je me tiens par temps gris froid

 



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