Perdu dans la fort, j'ai interrompu une brindille fonce et ai soulev son chuchotement mes lvres altres: peut-tre c'tait la voix de la pluie pleurant, une cloche crique, ou un coeur dchir.
Quelque chose loin au loin d'elle a sembl profonde et le secret moi, cach par la terre, un cri a insonoris par des automnes normes, par le moite moiti-ouvrent l'obscurit des feuilles.
Wakening de la fort rvante l, le noisette-hazel-sprig a chant sous ma langue, son parfum drivant mont vers le haut par mon esprit conscient
comme si soudainement les racines que j'avais laisses pleur dehors moi, la terre j'avais perdue avec mon enfance --- et je me suis arrt, ai enroul par le parfum errant
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