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lost love poem

vous êtes beau et fané
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
voyez, ils retournent
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
avant le saint en bronze solennel
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
les jours hypocrites
l'amour a été chanté mille manières
si j'étais très sûr
ville qui n'est pas une ville

 



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