Through the groves of the Tamarit
the dogs of lead have come to wait for the branches to fall to see if they'll break off by themselves. |
Sitting with the water up to their knees
two valleys are waiting for autumn. The gloom with elephant's tread pushes at the branches and the trunks. |
The Tamarit has an apple tree
with an apple of sobs. A nightingale gathers the sighs together, and a pheasant chases them through the dust. |
Through the groves of the Tamarit
there are many children with their faces veiled waiting for my branches to fall, waiting for them to break off by themselves. |
But the branches are cheerful,
the branches are like us. Not thinking of the rain, they have gone to sleep, as if they had become trees suddenly. |
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