Non, je ne l’aime point cette carcasse d’os,
Qu’on ne m’en parle plus, quoiqu’il y ait du lucre,
J’aime autant embrasser l’image d’Atropos
Ou me laisser tomber tout nu dans un sépulcre.
Dès la première nuit de nos embrassements,
J’imaginais sa chambre être un grand cimetière,
Son corps maigre semblait un monceau d’ossements,
Son linceul un suaire et sa couche une bière.
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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