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epic poetry

avant le saint en bronze solennel
le soleil est vers le haut
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
l'aube était vert pomme
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
je sais ce que vous allez dire
le maître des destins humains suis moi
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
nos moments plaisants volent

 



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