.Nous avions à nos fusils, le sourire candide du monde
Réfractions innocentes, sur les yeux des enfants
Nous avions pour fusil, le regard indistinct
De l'aube se dispersant, sur une brise insouciante
Nous resterons flottant, cendres dans le vent brûlant
L'aube ayant eu raison, .
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