notre amour s’était paré d’automne
il se berçait en plaintes monotones
je n’ai pas su le réveiller
ni lui donner les couleurs de l’ été
faut-il que nos amours se meurent
quand s’installe la paresse
n’auront-ils d’autres demeures
que les plis de nos caresses
dans le jardin de mon bonheur
près de mon cœur abandonné
repose doucement la fleur
que tu ne m’as jamais donnée
faut-il que nos amours se meurent
quand s’installe la paresse
n’auront-ils d’autres demeures
que les plis de nos caresses
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