bleuet / Anne-Marie
Automnale - Autumnal
© Copyright notice: Do not use my images without my written permission, even for a non commercial use. If you're interested in any of my photos you must contact me first. All my images are under full copyright.
© All rights reserved worldwide.
Automnale
L’été s’en est allé aux dernières vendanges.
Chaque soir le soleil se meurt un peu plus tôt.
Le bleu du ciel pâlit. Le merle et la mésange
Ont déjà déserté la fontaine aux oiseaux.
Le grand chêne attristé laisse pleurer ses feuilles
Que le vent plus hardi conduit à leur trépas.
Elles ont recouvert le sol qui les recueille
D’un tapis mordoré qui craque sous les pas.
L’abeille ne boit plus au calice des roses.
Le papillon de mai ne s’éveillera pas.
Le jardin fatigué paresse, se repose,
Avant que d’affronter décembre et ses frimas.
L’hirondelle a rejoint des aurores lointaines.
La fumée, sur le toit, danse au rythme du vent.
Quand la brume du soir emprisonne la plaine,
Le vol des souvenirs s’alanguit doucement.
Renée Jeanne Mignard
Autumnal
Summer has gone away since the last grape harvest.
Each evening the sun dies a little earlier.
The blue of the sky fades. The blackbird and the titmouse
Already deserted the birds fountain.
The large saddened oak lets its leaves cry
Which the bolder wind led to their demise.
They covered the ground which collects them
With a golden brown carpet which cracks under the steps.
The bee does not drink any more in the roses chalice.
The butterfly of May will not wake up.
The tired garden lazes, rests,
Before to face December and its bragged.
The swallow joined distant dawns.
Smoke, on the roof, dances in the rhythm of the wind.
When evening mist imprisons the plain,
Flight of the memories gently grows languid.
Renée Jeanne Mignard
Automnale - Autumnal
© Copyright notice: Do not use my images without my written permission, even for a non commercial use. If you're interested in any of my photos you must contact me first. All my images are under full copyright.
© All rights reserved worldwide.
Automnale
L’été s’en est allé aux dernières vendanges.
Chaque soir le soleil se meurt un peu plus tôt.
Le bleu du ciel pâlit. Le merle et la mésange
Ont déjà déserté la fontaine aux oiseaux.
Le grand chêne attristé laisse pleurer ses feuilles
Que le vent plus hardi conduit à leur trépas.
Elles ont recouvert le sol qui les recueille
D’un tapis mordoré qui craque sous les pas.
L’abeille ne boit plus au calice des roses.
Le papillon de mai ne s’éveillera pas.
Le jardin fatigué paresse, se repose,
Avant que d’affronter décembre et ses frimas.
L’hirondelle a rejoint des aurores lointaines.
La fumée, sur le toit, danse au rythme du vent.
Quand la brume du soir emprisonne la plaine,
Le vol des souvenirs s’alanguit doucement.
Renée Jeanne Mignard
Autumnal
Summer has gone away since the last grape harvest.
Each evening the sun dies a little earlier.
The blue of the sky fades. The blackbird and the titmouse
Already deserted the birds fountain.
The large saddened oak lets its leaves cry
Which the bolder wind led to their demise.
They covered the ground which collects them
With a golden brown carpet which cracks under the steps.
The bee does not drink any more in the roses chalice.
The butterfly of May will not wake up.
The tired garden lazes, rests,
Before to face December and its bragged.
The swallow joined distant dawns.
Smoke, on the roof, dances in the rhythm of the wind.
When evening mist imprisons the plain,
Flight of the memories gently grows languid.
Renée Jeanne Mignard