.Jâai des tas dâimages, barbouillées de craie
Par cet enfant sage, qui jamais ne sait
Séparer le mal du bien quâil a fait
Du bien quâil a fait
Toujours dans la marge, un petit regret
Revient à la nage pour tuer dâun trait
Chacun des naufrages qui le re.
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