Je parle de l'amour qui vient l'esprit: La lune est fidle, bien qu'abat-jour; Elle se dplace la pense qu'elle ne peut pas parler. Le soin parfait l'a rendue morne.
Je jamais n'ai tellement profondment rv la mer, la terre si fonce; tellement longtemps mon sommeil, je suis devenu un autre enfant. Je me rveille pour voir le monde devenir comme fou.
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