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lost love poem

la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
j'ai fait un voeu par le passé, un seulement
elle était une beauté en jours
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
elle a dit
bonne femme
nous avons aucune honte?
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent

 



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