Puisse ma libre vie être comme la lande Où sous l’ampleur du ciel ardent d’un soleil roux, Les fourrés de kermès et les buissons de houx Croissent en des senteurs de thym et de lavande.
Psyché, ma sœur, écoute immobile, et frissonne ..
Le bonheur vient, nous toucher et nous parle à genoux.
Pressons nos mains. Sois grave. Écoute encore .. Personne
N’est plus heureux ce soir, n’est plus divin que nous. [..]
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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