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Le jour est brûlant comme un fruit Que le soleil fendille et cuit. Chaque petite feuille est chaude Et miroite dans l'air où rôde Comme un parfum de reine-claude. Du soleil comme de l'eau pleut Sur tout le pays jaune et bleu Qui grésille et oscille un peu. Un infini plaisir de vivre S'élance de la forêt ivre, Des blés roses comme du cuivre. Anna de Noailles |
6 commentaires:
Beautiful pots, and a lovely poem! I will try to read the poem out loud a few times. We had a sad week this week as Ginger has died. He had kidney failure. He seemed quite healthy until only a few days ago. So now we are a smaller family. I am so very thankful for all the happy years that we had with him.
So sorry for you Peter, Ginger was a very gentle cat, I know what it means as my Miko loves so much hugs, and the cat I had before was rather agressive. And I am thankful for that, hope a new nice gentle cat will meet you soon.
Happy to know you like my pots, the poem is a call for warm weather as it's really cold these days, and I enjoy so much the music of the words, that's why I didn't translate it.
Thank you for your kind words Armelle. I did do a Google translation of the poem for an idea of the meaning, but I could see that in French the poem had a lovely sense of rhythm, and the words would have "music" as you say.
Hello Peter,
Your comment was in the spam box, sorry. You are right the translation don't give any idea of the sounds, I like very much this poem from Anna de Noailles http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_de_Noailles
I think I learnt it at school or maybe later, and it souds very warmful.
Best wishes to you
Trop beaux, surtout ceux avec un fond blanc. Gros bisous!
Merci Aude
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