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angel poem

aimez-moi enfin, ou si vous pas
doucement pleurant
je ne prie pas pour la paix
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
je vous ai détesté
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
travails de la terre
vous faites entendre
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
les longs couloirs de marbre resounding
il y avait un temps en anciennes années
ce qui conserve

 



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