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sad death poem

souvent je pense à la belle ville
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
passé persistant de thou
une fois ce gazon mou
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
je suis fevered

 



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