Autumn Hymn - Site Poèmes & Diaporama de L'Arié...Joie

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List of Poems > Month and Seasons
Autumn Hymn

In the autumn the leaves begin their waltz on the arm of the wind which carries them away,
Tall yellow poplars sow their golden foliage among the reeds,
Descending veiled hills, autumn hides villages and hamlets,
Whence come the roofs of the smoke by long blue streaks in tatters.

September is round like a grape with its grains and seeds,
October has champion, pumpkins and elegant mushrooms,
In November the cold forces the children to put on the gloves,
Waiting for December when Christmas will come in the fir trees.

In the countryside Maitre Capucin uses his disconcerting wiles against the hunters,
Carpet in his bed in the middle of a plow he may not move the day,
If he is flushed, he will run straight ahead to sow his pursuing pack,
And do not hesitate to cross a herd of sheep to cut off its musky scent.

Refugeed behind a hedge, he will listen to the horde thrown at his heels,
He can make three or four leaps and the turn is played smoothly,
In an umpteenth trick he returns back to crouch near his starting point,
Crossing his path, he remained there quartered to spend the night, cuddly.

In my native Ariège the "lebe", the hare was the favorite of the trackers,
The "woodcock", the woodcock occupied the first frost "lou casayre", the hunter,
In summer, the palombieres kept up their duties in the autumn,
Where the "pimpailla" of the "paloumaïres", the shots, resounded at daybreak in chorus.

Another passion of the beginning of the autumn for the hunting of mushrooms,
In the oak groves, coppices of charms or birches for the good scholars of gloriole,
They busy themselves to fill their basket with porcini mushrooms, chanterelles, coulemelles and chanterelles,
But for some it is the quest for the amanita of the Caesars that haunts these covetous amateurs.

On the banks of the ponds she hides, nestled in her egg with milky white,
Before largely opening to burst the orange yellow of his shining hat,
It is in carpaccio that its delicacy and its hazelnut taste prove best,
The oronge, the highness of the undergrowth, was a favorite among the Emperors of ancient Rome.

The Yellow Nibbles a Carrot
The lepatote carries handcuffs
The vesse-de-loup sings under the moon
The russell makes the pendulum

   The trumpet of death celebrates in real life
Chanterelle loves Christmas Day
The foot of sheep wants a candy
The hairy coprin grows in rags
 
                                                          L’ ARIÉ…JOIE

 
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