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famous poetry

beaux, tragical visages
mais alas, ręves justes
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
pourquoi
la noblesse de la mort encore
je vous attends
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
levé des morts

 



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