August summer visitors everywhere - Poemes & Diaporama Website L'Arié...Joie

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August, summer visitors everywhere

It is summer, it is time to go at the time when the summerers rush to the beaches or the mountain,
On the side of the Basque Country the little train of "La Rhune" fills up, every day we play the win,
For our friends on all fours, the time is fattening in view of the mischievous winter rigors,
Betizu cows, Pottock ponies and Manech sheep graze on the upholstered slopes of eagle fern.

In these landscapes of the moors, the "tuya", this gorse used to light the lime kilns,
Illuminates the meadows of yellow in the company of the epilobes with pink flowers upright,
Behigorri and Zezengorri, cows and bulls of tawny color, with pointed horns pointed in sting,
Brush herbs and lichens in the company of the sheep-brushers with corkscrew horns.

In the Ariegeois wasteland, the long-stinged stems carry the winged wing,
On each floor of the skyscrapers, the basins formed by the leaves recover the drops of rain,
It is the cabaret of the piafs, but besides the drink one can also break the seed, cuicui,
Our elegant goldfinch, with its motley costume, has a large beak, between the thorns without stinging.

It is an extraordinary garden, "the singing fan" Charles Trenet,
In front of the stifling ogre of Thermidor I invite you to a refreshing walk around the carnations,
Between Guérande and Noirmoutier, the saunier, using his "lousse" or raclette, picks up the Flower of salt,
At the edge of the water, the manna sparkles, releasing a light fragrance of violette once dried.

It is at the bottom of the saunante area that the coarse salt with the gray color is sought,
With the help of his "simoussi" or "stelle", a small board fixed to a long pole,
The master of the salt marsh carefully brings his picking to the edge of the "vette" of clay,
Then equipped with the "souvron" pierced with holes, he will mount his pyramid of white gold on the fragile path.

In the fields of the blue sky a few flakes of wool swim in silence, dazzled,
Cradled by a burst of mistral revealing the spicy fragrance of the maquis of the cistus,
Hence the harmonious musical phrasing of the lemon-yellow venturon with its plump belly,
When the sky-blue spurge drives away the small rodents with unprecedented precision.

With the approach of summer, the "devoted" sounded the hour of the transhumance,
Cowled at the neck, the cattle guided by the shepherds left the valleys,
A time of celebration to the sound of thousands of hooves striking the paths,
For after the effort to taste the fresh grass of the "jaças", on holiday.

Close to the "courtal" of Goulur, above Massat, gridded with draille,
The Tarasconian horned ewes feed on "licorice"
Watched from afar by the "majourals", shepherds sheltering in the "orris"
These girbed cabins, made of dry stones, carried cattle.

On these pastures the shepherd carries around his neck his "samage"
Small musette filled with salt for its cows and sheep in freedom,
Sometimes accompanied by the black princes of the estives in the glossy zain dress,
The horses of race Mérens, the "merangais" with excellent fame.

In the Vicdessos, these "orris" formed true mountain farms,
The "bourdaous", with sheepfold, tightens, cheese cellar, enclosure and chicken coop,
Where the summer came, every family, "papé" at the head, "amoutagnait" in full,
Grouped like the Carla, a real village of stones Cambroussardes.

Among our dreams of a summer night how not to admire the sparkling stars of the Milky Way,
Where these splendid silver arrows fall in fine rain, called "tears of St Laurent"
Rêverie sometimes disturbed by the lament of the "chat-huant", our little owl hidden hulotte,
The long quivering wriggles can be complemented by trills for mating.

On the side of Arles Vincent Van Gogh illuminated the helianthes to the capitules turning with the solar star,
The large floral disk of sunflowers contributes to the beautification of fields and areas,
A mythological symbol of the ability to adapt to reach his awakening dreams,
He used the song, "the sunflower does not need a compass to turn to the sun."

As for the thousand-year-old olive tree, shining with silver in the summer of the Provencal wind of the Madonna,
He is also charged with a great symbolic richness between Peace and Eternity,
The one hundred years old is still a child was the cardinal tree of the Celts, incarnating the autumnal equinox,
Surrounded by olive branches the UN flag evokes the aspiration of peoples for peace and unity.

True climber with spectacular vegetation it carries its bouquets of flowers in legion,
Its long orange trumpets trumpet the flamboyant summer without discretion,
By its crampons it takes by assault walls and facades under the pure aoutien sun,
In the company of the pink laurels, with corymbes with tubular corollas blushing under the azure.
Thermidor fills barns
Colors the grapes and ripens the harvest
                                                                                                                                                                         L’ ARIÉ…JOIE

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