.Combien de nuits il nous reste? Combien de tendres gestes?
Est-ce quâon a passé la moitié de lâhistoire?
Sans le savoir, peut-être il faudra se soumettre
à lâamour qui meurt et largue les amarres
Si demain elle tombait de haut, haut
Notre idéale idylle, idé.
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