Lyon between Shadows and Lights
Yesterday forgotten, abandoned and filthy, now restored, visited and bright,
The ancient capital of Gaul, Lugdunum, is visited by its vertiginous traboules,
Leaving thick mists rising Brotteaux from the banks of the Rhone, Lyon,
Offers the charm of its old neighborhoods just rescued from destruction.
To discover the remains of Old Lyon, nothing better than to cross,
In the network of narrow pedestrian crossings connecting the streets through the courses of the hill,
During the uprising of the canuts, the insurgents found refuge in this ruined belly,
Daedals serving the resistance but mousetrap when Klauss Barbie organized its net.
Here the Gestapo was interrogating and Jean Moulin immortalized the spirit of the Resistance,
While the martyrs of torture at Fort Montluc, the Vichy regime piles up,
The butcher of Lyon will be incarcerated in 1983 in one of the cells of his victims,
The jail of Jean Moulin, aka Max, will commemorate this door of ultimate hell.
These labyrinths where the old-time gones grôlassaient such pass-walls,
Allowing to rush under the vaults of the secret streets of the medieval district,
Crossing courtyards of buildings, narrow corridors forming a maze,
Where the current tourist, not accompanied by a guide, can easily lose the pedals.
Popular district engaged and friendly "the slopes" of the Croix Rousse,
Trenches by "the string", replaced since by a portion of soft subway,
Allows to reach the unavoidable landmark, "the Big Stone",
Where nearby there lived the canuts, the little people of Lyon silk standing.
It is in the year minus 43, just after the death of Julius Caesar, that Lugdunum will be sacred,
It will become an important node of communication to reach the Rhine and the Mediterranean,
This Roman colony covered with works of art, aqueducts and flamboyant baths,
Will be under the emperor Claude the residence of the prefects, striking the money of gold and silver.
The silk weavers built their houses with imposing high ceilings,
Allowing to receive their weaving looms resounding their "bistan-clacpan",
On this "hill that works", in 1831 the revenues are deteriorating,
Causing the revolt of "Living free while working or dying while fighting".
City light celebrated December 8, since the 18th century. by the grateful aldermen,
Promising the Virgin to honor her with candles for repelling the plague with
Louis and Auguste Lumière brought cinema and photography in 1895
While the "mothers" in their caps, go up to the firmament gastronomy.
The gourmet history of the city celebrates the pear-shaped Jesus,
Rosette companion, cooking sausage or pork head sabodet,
Followed by the sausage apron with fat-double, calf's head or thermidor dumplings,
To conclude with the brains of canut, a pie with praline and a Hermitage to drink.
If Paris is the capital of France, Lyon is the capital of gastronomy of the world,
City of good food, with the fish of the lakes of Geneva and Bourget, the game abounds there,
We swoon at the sight of the foxes of Bresse or the turkeys of Dauphine,
All washed down by the 3rd river of the country after the Saone and the Rhone, Beaujolais wines.
At the gates of Lyon it is in Collonges at Mont d'Or that reigns the Bocuse without fainting,
For half a century, the Commander of French gastronomy built his empire,
Paul, Meilleur Ouvrier de France in the 60s, made cooking a universal discipline.
His famous truffle soup VGE, crosses the doors of the Elysee, giving him wings.
But in the shadow of the great stellated toques of which Paul Bocuse was the undisputed emperor,
The gastronomy of Lyon is set on a gentle fire, with a strong culinary tradition,
If the mothers are the heralds, for conservatism the plugs are the fathers,
With their copper decor, cloth toppings or balloon glasses for authenticity.
Settled on a river crossroads, Lyon sees the banks of its two historic rivers,
Connected over the Saone by the footbridge of the Palace of Justice dominated by its only mast,
And by the footbridge of the College dating from 1844 crossing the Rhone flat,
While on the hill, Notre-Dame de Fourviere bites the sky with its metal towers.
South of Lyon, the Pilat massif offers a great momentum of generous nature,
This green sentinel of the Rhone, with its air of Vercors, hides a well kept secret,
Here, Ponce Pilate, the prosecutor of Judea, would have died on his return from Palestine.
Since on the slopes of the chirate where the body stayed, the grass does not grow again, hateful!
On the slopes of Pilat grow vines with names singing, syrah and viognier,
The vineyards are equipped with rack monorail to work on the heights,
In Malleval, the "little Sorbonne", this tool allows to go down the precious vintage,
Since Pliny the Elder, 24 centuries we contemplate between Condrieu and Côte-Rôtie, out of age.
ARIÉ ... .JOIE