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poem and quote

l'aube était vert pomme
très bien, vous libéraux
pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité
donnez-moi la faim
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
à minuit
sous la lune de moisson
je ne brûle aucun encens
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
babylon -- où je vais rêver
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE

 



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