Papier, plie-toi, sois la rose et l\u2019arc-en-ciel,
\nSois la soie, sois l\u00e0 ce soir,
\nSois lasse.
\nUne faux oubli\u00e9e au flanc d\u2019un cadavre ouvre lentement les yeux.
\nSe dandine un instant, secoue ses falbalas d\u2019un autre \u00e2ge et se mire au miroir
\nde son corps,
\nS\u2019indigne, s\u2019encol\u00e8re, se monte le bourrichon, se d\u00e9cha\u00eene.
\nLe mort lui donne une pomme de terre, une petite pomme de terre,
\nFauche la pomme de terre,
\nFauche la rose et l\u2019arc-en-ciel et la soie et le soir,
\nPuis reprend sa place au flanc du cadavre.
\nD\u00e9roulant un \u00e9cheveau sali par les temps et la poussi\u00e8re et l\u2019eau qui suinte des
\nvieilles murailles,
\nLe ciel se dissimule derri\u00e8re les for\u00eats o\u00f9 maintes femmes se devinent et se
\nr\u00e9v\u00e8lent et se questionnent,
\nDans l\u2019ombre grasse des troncs d\u2019arbres.
\nPersonne ne sortira de la petite maison bariol\u00e9e au haut de la colline,
\nEn d\u00e9pit d\u2019une foule surgissant au d\u00e9tour de la route, drapeaux rouges claquant
\nau vent,
\nEn d\u00e9pit m\u00eame de l\u2019appel: Camarade, Camarade, camarade, CAMARADES!
\nVoici ce qu\u2019\u00e9tait le paysage avant le fameux \u00e9v\u00e9nement:
\nQuelques mouches volaient en bourdonnant au-dessus d\u2019une plaie d\u2019o\u00f9 l\u2019acier
\ncoulait mieux que le sang.
\nLe son d\u2019un marteau part de loin,
\nIl part, il vole avec son petit chapeau de paille.
\nQuant \u00e0 la faux, les senteurs du vent lui mirent une chemise bleue et encore une
\nchemise jaune.
\nLes senteurs de la rivi\u00e8re lui mirent une tunique de corail et une tunique
\nd\u2019acier.
\nLes senteurs des feuilles lui mirent une tunique de salp\u00eatre et de phosphore,
\nEt les senteurs de la derni\u00e8re heure, une crinoline de satin avec des fleurs.
\nElle attendit en jouant avec son ombrelle
\nQue le son du marteau arriv\u00e2t de loin.
\nArriva en inclinant son chapeau vers elle,
\nUn bouquet \u00e0 la main, le sourire en coin.
\nIls mang\u00e8rent du poulet, burent du pommard,
\nIls mang\u00e8rent des grives, burent du champagne,
\nIls mang\u00e8rent des hu\u00eetres et du homard,
\nEt jou\u00e8rent aux dames \u00e0 qui perd gagne.<\/p>\n
Ils se battirent comme des chiffonniers
\nJusqu\u2019au moment o\u00f9, satisfait de leurs blessures,
\nLe ciel rassur\u00e9 sortit hors des halliers.
\nEst-ce votre sort d\u2019\u00eatre dupe des ombres?
\nVaut-il pas mieux \u00eatre dup\u00e9 par la chair?
\nPerdre son sang par des blessures sans nombre
\nEt n\u2019offrir \u00e0 la mort qu\u2019un triste festin et qu\u2019une maigre ch\u00e8re?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[674],"poems-book":[665],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[655],"class_list":["post-14518","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-674","poems-book-fortunes","poete-robert-desnos"],"yoast_head":"\n