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sous la feuille sombre de laurier
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
j'ai su le silence des étoiles et de la mer
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent à moi
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
à l'amoureux passionné
la noblesse de la mort encore
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
qui appellera le vent

 



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