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autumn poem

le régal royal a été fait
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
certains des maux que vous avez traités
le maître des destins humains suis moi
jamais dans toute ma vie
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles

 



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