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short love poem

son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
truely
chère épouse
nous qui se sont tenus
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
c'était l'automne de l'année
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
babylon -- où je vais rêver
beaux, tragical visages
travails de la terre

 



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