Il faut cultiver son jardin.



Si J'avais un petit jardin.

Si J'avais un petit jardin
Je m'en irais chaque matin
Dans les parfums et dans la brise
Pour voir, pendant que je revai
Si mon jardin ne m'a pas fait
Une surprise.

J'irais regarder de tout près
Si les rosiers sont en progrès
et si les bourgeons vont éclore
ou bien si les lilas frileux
trouvant qu'il fait trop froid pour eux
tardent encore!

Si j'avais un petit jardin
je m'en irais chaque matin
L'âme curieuse et ravie
Ecouter partout dans les fleurs
les fruits, les parfums, les couleurs,
Chanter la vie!

***

If I had a little garden,
I'd go out every morning,
into the scents mingling on the breeze
To see if, while I slept,
My garden didn't leave me
a surprise.

I'd go give a closer look
to see how the roses were coming along,
and to see if any buds emerged
or if the delicate lilies,
finding that it was too chilly,
hesitated again!

If I had a little garden,
I'd go out every morning,
Spirit curious and charmed
Listening for, among the flowers,
the fruits, the perfumes and the colors,
Their song of life!

The Snail.



L'Escargot

L'escargot s'est logé
Sous un des pommiers du verger
Sa maison ronde et dure
n'a qu'une pièce, mais il jure
qu'il se moque du mauvais temps
Et qu'il y vit toujours content

Dans le verger
Sous un pommier
Monsieur l'escargot se promène
Sa maison l'abrite sans peine;
Si son logement n'est pas grand,
Il se moque du mauvais temps.

-adapté de l'anglais

(Kind of ironic to be supplying a translation of a translation, as the original is "adapted from the English.")

Snail.

A little snail lives
Under one of the trees in the apple orchard.
His tough little home
Has only one room, but he'll be the first to say
That he has no fear of bad weather
And that he's quite snug and content.

In the orchard
Under his tree
Mister Snail takes his daily walks
His house shelters him well;
Even if it isn't very big,
He has no fear of bad weather.

Domestic Archaeology.

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

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...

-Charles D'Orléans

(Apologies for the somewhat rough and on the fly translation:)

Winter

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.