La vieille grange
Accueillante est la grange aux rêveurs! les vieux murs
Suintent d’anciens soleils qui lentement se fanent
Parmi le gerbier roux d’où leurs parfums s’émanent
Et meurent indécis au bleu des clairs-obscurs.
À pas de loup, craintifs, rôdent dans l’ombre floue,
Sur l’aire de velours des rayons émoussés ;
Et l’instant qu’on respire est déjà du passé
Qui coule en frissons doux , comme l’eau sous la roue.
Calme de la nuit pend au long des noirs chevrons,
Plane et trame sa paix, de cendres imprégnée,
À travers le vitrail des toiles d’araignée,
Dont un rais de soleil fait trembler les fleurons.
The old barn
The barn is welcoming to dreamers! Walls once new
Now seep with former suns that start to fade and merge
Within the russet stack from where their scents emerge
And, indecisive, die in chiaroscuro blue.
In stealth and fear, with hazy shade that all conceals,
On areas of velvet blunted sun-rays roam;
The instant that one breathes is of the past, and foam
Upon soft ripples, just like water under wheels.
Along black beams nocturnal quiet hangs in their wake,
It glides and weaves its peace, with ash though it is steeped,
And through the stained-glass window, spider’s webs are streaked
By one sun’s ray that makes the glinting fleurons quake.
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