![]() Like the peaceful beasts that graze down to the sea of Palestine.īranches and rain hurl themselves at the windows of my library. There is a troupe of little actors in costume, glimpsed on the road through the border of the woods.Īnd then, when you are hungry and thirsty, there is someone who drives you away. There is a little carriage abandoned in the copse or that goes running down the road beribboned. There is a cathedral that goes down and a lake that goes up. There is a hollow with a nest of white beasts. The clouds gathered over the high sea, formed of an eternity of hot tears. The slopes cradled him.īeasts of a fabulous elegance moved about. O the Calvaries and the windmills of the desert, the islands and the haystacks! The meadows go up to the hamlets without anvils or cocks. The enclosures are so high that nothing can be seen but the rustling tree tops.īesides, there is nothing to be seen within. The priest must have taken away the key of the church.Īround the park the keepers’ cottages are uninhabited. The chateau is for sale the shutters are coming off. – You follow the red road to reach the empty inn. Swarms of golden leaves surround the general’s house. The old men who have been buried upright in the rampart overgrown with gillyflowers. – The little brother (he is in India!) there, before the western sky in the meadow of pinks. The cousin’s carriage creaks on the sand. – The young mamma, deceased, comes down the stoop. It is she, the little girl, dead behind the rosebushes. What boredom, the hour of the “dear body” and “dear heart.” ![]() ![]() Little foreign misses and young ladies gently unhappy. Princesses tyrannical of costume and carriage, – young mothers and big sisters with eyes full of pilgrimages, sultanas, Jewels upright on the rich ground of groves and little thawed gardens, Ladies who stroll on terraces adjacent to the sea īaby girls and giantesses, superb blacks in the verdigris moss, Nakedness shaded, traversed, dressed by rainbow, flora, sea. The girl with orange lips, knees crossed in the clear flood that gushes from the fields, – dream flowers tinkle, flash, and flare, – Runs over beaches called by the shipless waves, That idol, black eyes and yellow mop, without parents or court,
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