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How heavy this month is the burden to bear
To leave with regret the clamors of the feast
And, while the old one finally retreats
To offer the world the hope of this new-born year.
We sometimes keep for a long time, in secret nooks and crannies
The wilted needles of a coloured fir
The smell of the resin, and then… everything disappears
As if to let Janvier at the end win.
The Sunday o
How heavy this month is the burden to bear
To leave with regret the clamors of the feast
And, whil
