It is sunny It is raining, it is thundering It is autumn From waking up to sleeping. The leaves are dry and passive And the flowers are dead and inactive Later, it is snowing The neighbors of the inn See the deer pass by All the holy day long And during the whole evening We feel the change of the nerves To welcome the new season Where we are far from the harvest.
We can hear from very far away The wind humming in the hay The vibrations are not monotonous Since the hummingbirds of the hills Make their spectacular presence felt And the poets in the imaginary gardens Describe everything that happens In the country where the mass Remains insensitive, benighted and glaikit And where the elected corruptors boast. It is sunny It is raining, it is thundering It is autumn From waking up to sleeping.
P.S. Translation Of ‘Les Cantiques Antiques De L’Automne’.