C’est toujours la même chanson, O mon amour, que je fredonne : Tout ce que j’ai, je te le donne, Nos cœurs battent à l’unisson.
Sur les quais, le long de la Seine, À Montmartre, près des moulins, Mes souvenirs entrent en scène : Bonjour, Paris des assassins ! Bonjour, Paris des midinettes, Des filles, des mauvais garçons, Des clochards et des bals-musettes ! Si je te dois d’être poète, C’est sur un air d’accordéon.
Saviez-vous que l’épigramme était le plus court des genres littéraires ? Découvrez ma sélection d’épigrammes d’auteurs et mes écrits personnels.
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