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This is a fucking test
Et quand à moi, je vais oser et jammer sur Leonard Cohen dans son recueil
"The Energy of Slaves" le poèmes 17.
I perceived the outline of your breasts
Un contour de magie
through your Hallowe'en costume
tissus subtils diaphanes diaphragmes
I knew you were falling in love with me
Tombes, je tue, Mesrine, l'âme de cette poitrine
because no other man could perceive
Ton besoin d'être subtilement aggripée
the advance of your bosom into his imagination
étranglée, humiliée, miraculée et travestie
It was a rupture of your unusual modesty
L'assistante en costume paillettes
for me and me alone
La gorge éclatée le pigeon d'argile
through which you impressed upon my shapeless hunger
Le mascara qui coule, des poules plumées
the incomparable and final outline of your breasts
Dans la gueule d'un boa mortel
like two deep fossil shells
T'ornent deux urnes belles
which remained all night long and probably forever.
Comme la lueur dans l'oeil de tes soeurs.