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brother poem

son visage est juste et lisse et bon
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
je suis las d'ĂŞtre amer et las d'ĂŞtre sage
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
il parle pas bien
sous la feuille sombre de laurier

 



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