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black poetry

les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
j'ai regardé sur le ciel glorieux
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
ne soyez pas faux
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
splendide et terrible votre amour
y a il quiconque là
leurs beaux cheveux

 



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