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romantic love poems

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
il y a une heure du repos paisible
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
ce qui conserve
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
gloom
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
la noblesse de la mort encore
pensées par ma tête

 



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