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love poems

c'était l'automne de l'année
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
mélancolie, bleu il était
il y a mille années silencieuses
beaux, tragical visages
le long des banques
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
qui est le coureur dans les cieux

 



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