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lyric poetry

comme des aigles sur la haute haute
je me suis tenu
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
le soleil est vers le haut
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
sous la lune de moisson
dans des nombres mournful
gloom
laissez-moi se déplacer lentement par la rue

 



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