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marriage poem

frère, je suis le feu
le parfum est venu
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
près d'un champ en détresse
je suis allé à travers les rues
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
il était un jeune oysterman grand
je les ai entendus la nuit
à l'amoureux passionné
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu

 



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