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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2013-02-10 | [This text should be read in francais] | Submited by Guy Rancourt
Les fleurs se fanent
Toutes Quand vient le brouillard, Et les hommes Meurent, On les met dans la tombe. Les hommes aussi sont des fleurs, Ils reviendront tous Quand leur printemps s’annoncera. Alors ils ne seront plus jamais malades Et tout sera pardonné. (Hermann Hesse, Knulp, Paris, Calmann-Lévy, 1972)
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