.Un chagrin nâarrive jamais seul
Mais la Terre reste mon amie
Jâaime la Terre, jâaime les feuilles
Les rouges, les jaunes, les mortes aussi
Je rêve avec le vent qui passe
Parfois au-dessus de ma tête
Avec le temps dans sa besace
Comme lââme trouée.
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