The Frenchie, like me, has been slowly but surely sifting through the effects of the past couple generations left to him when his parents passed away. Recently, he found a notebook belong to his mother where she'd jotted down favorite lyrics, poems, etc. Interesting to look back on these things and not have the same attachments as I have going through my own mother's things:
If you click on the image, it'll take you to the flickr site where you can find something larger and easier to read.
Hiver, vous n'êtes qu'un villain
Eté est plaisant et gentil
Eté revêt champs, bois et fleurs
De sa Livrée de verdure
Et de maintes autres couleurs
Mais vous, Hiver, vous êtes plein
de neige, vent, pluie et grésil.
Hiver, vous n'êtes qu'un villain...
(Apologies for the somewhat rough and on the fly translation:)
Oh, awful, awful Winter,
Summer is pleasant and sweet
Summer dresses up fields, woods and flowers
In verdant finery
touched with so many other colors
But you, Winter, you are filled
with snow, wind, rain and hail.
Oh, awful, awful Winter.
Also found in my wanders that Debussy set this to music.