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type of poem

la noblesse de la mort encore
levé des morts
nous qui se sont tenus
j'ai fait un voeu par le passé, un seulement
si j'avais su l'étroit une prison est amour
le ciel
orage
sommeil gentiment dans vos tombes humbles
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer

 



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