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sorry poem

comme un homme nu je vont
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
les voûtes du pont rouge
du soleil ni des étoiles
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
beaux, tragical visages
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
en tant qu'elle
chère épouse
tressé et tissé
donnez-moi
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?

 



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