Par un doux soir de Novembre
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Par un doux soir de Novembre,
Les gens s'amusaient.
Ils riaient, chantaient, parlaient, vivaient.
Mais ils se sont tue.
Ils ont été tué.
Des balles ont été tiré
Par des hommes qui croyaient.
Les blessés, ceux qui restaient
Criaient, pleuraient, souffraient, mourraient.
De ce doux soir de Novembre nous retiendrons
Que des gens qui souriaient sont mort
Avec de la joie dans le cœur.
All Rights Reserved
#10
poésie
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