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quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
les voûtes du pont rouge
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
je ne brûle aucun encens
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
la noblesse de la mort encore
y a il quiconque là
regardez dehors sur les étoiles, mon amour
splendide et terrible votre amour

 



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