.C'est joli, non?
Les feuilles brunes sur le gazon
C'est l'automne, maman
Rien d'autre qu'une saison
C'est joli, non?
Le sable humide et vierge d'ombre
C'est la marée, maman
Qui reprend ses vagues sombres
Je ne pleure pas, je compose
à l'encre marine
Je ne pleur.
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