Mars laughs
Mars who weeps, Mars who laughs, is the month of change,
The earth is freed from the frosts, the waterfall is no longer numb,
Long live the bright sun giving Mars its pretty emerald buds,
This warlike month smiled in tears to welcome Spring.
Leaving the snow-lady, the torrent jumped up cheerfully,
From rocks to pebbles its crystal clear water plays leapfrog,
In the combe, his plume of silver breaks and falls badly,
From its bed the foam throws on the heath golden pearls in festoons.
In the waltz of the seasons winter draws its reverence,
Everywhere in nature the impetuous Spring infuses its energy,
The sap rises, the seeds germinate, the flowers hatch in a trance,
Mars plays with Venus, for animals it is the season of loves for life.
In the heart of the Cathar country, Limoux ended his trumpet ball,
On the banks of the Aude the "fécos" ranked their traditional costume,
Carnival draws to a close by savoring auricles and "pescalhos" with honey,
The whole watered by the divan blanquette where the "limos" makes dip.
On the Dunkirk side, the carnivalers march past until the Spring Ball,
The residents open their "chapel" without forgetting the exchange of "zôtches"
The "masquelours" await the rigodon to the sound of the drums and fifes of pocket,
In front of the town hall, the adile on the balcony throws the "kippers" or stinking herrings.
In the forest, listen to the woodpecker drumming on the sleeping trees,
The variegated bird uses its jackhammer to peck larvae and ants,
While the undergrowth is lined with a myriad of white stars of anemones,
Survived by the spring herald, the charming lemon looks for her beautiful demon.
A choir of feathered elves greets the arrival of the Spring magician,
Well perched on its branch the male warbler wearing its black beret of old
Play the crooners with the sweet and flutted song to attract his sweetheart,
The nicknamed the "nightingale of March" launches its playful ritornello.
With branches and mosses the laie prepares its "cauldron" close to the soil
In order to place there motherly its cute marcasines to the striped livery,
But close in their brown suit with golden eyes,
The males of the heart of the red army begin the nuptial hymn for lady frog.
As for the companion of the gardener, a round silhouette and orange-colored throat,
He follows him as his shadow to take advantage of earthworms or caterpillar larvae,
The familiar red throat perched at low heights, watches, descends, hops,
To pick up its prey, then its accomplished market, perches again, force-fed.
In this new spring our admirable tadpole willows become mafflus,
A fireworks of young antlers leaves the kittens fluffy and chubby,
A magical tree, one uses its mourning sticks to fight against the pains,
Thanks to its acid, the tree revolutionized by aspirin the care of evils tirailleurs.
L’ ARIÉ…JOIE