Et comme les astres penchants
Nous quittent, mais au ciel demeurent […]
Que me font ces vallons, ces palais, ces chaumières,
Vains objets dont pour moi le charme est envolé ? […]
La lune au ciel finit sa course,
Le Grand Chien, les Pléiades, l’Ourse […]
La vie coule à la mort comme un fleuve à la mer,
Car il est doux de vivre et mourir est amer.
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