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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-01-08 | [This text should be read in francais] | Submited by Guy Rancourt
Vive la fleur vivace
Qui s’ouvre à l’avenir. Ah ! le bras qui m’enlace N’est plus que souvenir. J’ai perdu toute trace De mes anciens plaisirs. Où est l’heure de grâce ? Un cheval va hennir Portant l’amant sans face Vers le dernier soupir. Souvenir Vivace Le plaisir M’enlace L’avenir Sans face Va hennir Ho hi ! Ho ha ! Ho hi ! (Louise de Vilmorin, Le lutin sauvage, 1971)
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