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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-12-11 | [This text should be read in francais] | Submited by Guy Rancourt
La jacinthe
Bleue et raide en son parfum Fleurit mes regrets défunts Et mes plaintes. Je ne porterai plus les bijoux du hasard, Diadème imprudent, bague mésalliée, Mais, don de ton accueil, l’iris de ton regard Et, pavois du repos au jour de mon départ, Une jacinthe bleue à ma gorge liée. (Louise de Vilmorin, Solitude, ô mon éléphant, 1972)
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