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Roussel - Des fleurs font une broderie

Des fleurs font une broderie

Roussel (1927)

Des fleurs font une broderie sur le gazon.
J'ai vingt ans, le doux éclat du vin est dans ma tête.
Les glands d'or brille au mors de mon coursier blanc,
Et la senteur du saule traîne sur le ruisseau.
Tant qu'elle n'a pas sourri, ces fleurs sont sans rayons
Quand ses tresses s'écroulent le paysage est gai.
Ma main est sur sa manche, mes yeux sont sur yeux,
... Va-t'elle me donner l'epingle de ses cheveux?


Flowers embroider the lawn


Flowers embroider the lawn.
I am twenty, the gentle sparkle of wine pervades my head.
The golden tassels gleam on my white charger's bit,
and the scent of the willow hangs over the stream.
As long as she has not smiled these flowers have no
radiance. When her tresses fall the landscape is gay.
My hand is on her sleeve, my eyes are on her eyes,
... Will she give me the pin from her hair?

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

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