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C’est le grand silence de la vie

qui me tinte aux oreilles.

 

C’est vilain silence qui glapit

rien qu’ à lui-même pareil.

 

C’est bruyant silence de la foule

caquetant tout son saoul.

 

C’est parfait silence de parlotes

où chacun radote.

 

Et dans ce guignol

qui ricane

qui rigole

qui me suit

me poursuit

et encore mieux m’ isole,

c’est le dur silence de la vie

qui me tinte aux oreilles.

 

Esther Granek

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