Amour, que j’aime à baiser les beaux yeux
De ma maîtresse, et à tordre en ma bouche
De ses cheveux l’or fin qui s’escarmouche
Dessus son front astré comme les cieux !
Je connais gens de toute sorte
Ils n’égalent pas leurs destins,
Indécis comme feuilles mortes
Leurs yeux sont des feux mal éteints,
Leurs cœurs bougent comme leurs portes.
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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