.La la la...
Derrière les murs dans la rue, que se passe-t-il, quel vacarme
Quels travaux, quels cris, quelles larmes ou rien, la vie, un linge écru
Sèche au jardin sur une corde, c'est le soir, cela sent le thym
Un bruit de charrette s'éteint, une guitare au loin s'accorde<.>
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