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free love poem

la noblesse de la mort encore
un regard est mais un rayon
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
donc je ne puis pas
dans sa tente gardée
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
je la pense splendide juste
sous la lune de moisson

 



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