Par les soirs bleus d’été, j’irai dans les sentiers,
Picoté par les blés, fouler l’herbe menue :
Rêveur, j’en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds.
Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue.
Mon cœur, plein de douceur et plein d’étonnement,
Cessez de vous mêler à la foule des hommes,
Leurs cris passent vos sens et votre entendement ;
Demeurons l’être simple et tendre que nous sommes …[..]
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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