Il y a toujours quelque niaiserie à trop respecter les femmes.
Ô Mort, où est ta victoire ?
Il y a toujours quelque niaiserie à trop respecter les femmes.
Ô Mort, où est ta victoire ?
Je suis le Ténébreux, — le Veuf, — l'Inconsolé, Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie : Ma seule Étoile est morte, — et mon luth constellé Porte le Soleil noir de la Mélancolie.
On ne peut empêcher les gens de parler, et c'est ainsi que s'écrit l'histoire.
La connais-tu, Dafné, cette ancienne romance.
© 2026 My French LLC
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