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Franck - La procession

La procession

Franck (1888)

Dieu s'avance à travers les champs!
Par les landes, les près, les verts taillis de hêtres,
Il vient, suivi du peuple et porté par les prêtres:
Aux cantiques de l'homme, oiseaux mêlez vos chants!
On s'arrête. La foule autour d'un chêne antique
S'incline, en adorant, sous l'ostensoir mystique:
Soleil, darde sur lui tes longs rayons couchants!
Vous, fleurs, avec l'encens exhalez votre arôme!
O fête! tout reluit, tout prie et tout embaume!
Dieu s'avance à travers les champs.

Auguste Brizeux

The procession


God is moving across the fields!
Through the heaths, the meadows, the green beech coppices,
he is coming, followed by the people and carried by the priests:
to the canticles of mankind, birds, mix in your songs!
They halt. The crowd, about an ancient oak,
bows in adoration beneath the mystical monstrance:
Sun, throw on it your long setting beams!
You, flowers, breathe your fragrance into the incense!
O fête! Everything is sparkling again, everything is praying and everything is scented.
God is moving across the fields.

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

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