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urdu poetry

o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
exister de cygne
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
il y a une heure du repos paisible

 



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