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poetry poem

il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
les poèts le disent
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
sous la barre du guerrier
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
splendide et terrible votre amour
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
je suis vieux et aveugle

 



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