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poem for pastors

il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
le pré rampait
vous êtes beau et fané
maintenant que je me suis refroidi Ă  vous
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
tristement parlant
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
gloom

 



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