.Un printemps meurt, en vient un autre
Et tout change, et tout est pareil.
Le bonheur n'est pas le n? Tre,
Pas plus que le soleil.
? Coute, ? Coute dans le monde
Cet orchestre de c? Urs battants.
De partout ils se are? Pondent
Depuis combien de temps?
Avant nous,<.>
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