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Here is the Spring!

* Louis-Honoré Fréchette (1839-1908)
Spring
Miss A ***

following Spring, the season of roses. More
bare twigs, yellowing of turf;
More cold mornings or evenings gloomy
Here Spring and blessed days. Here

Spring: flowers half closed
The breeze that comes from wood rejuvenated
Whisper whisper of divine things ... Here
the Spring season nests.

child, all this is revealed to you;
At home, as in the new flower,
cutting its supply of drinking liquor. To

no need for the time you reborn
virgin to have the youth
is your spring, the season of the heart.


* BEAUCHEMIN Nereus (1850-1931)

Ravens

The black crows black plumage,
What drove the autumn wind,
income from their long journey,
caw in the vernal sky.

The thicket, bushes morose
Await their joyous birds
But instead of gays virtuoso
Arrive early crows.

To charm the wood bored
These dilettantes unrivaled
Tonight by snow and rain,
Will give a great festival.

Dreamers, whose ecstasy is short,
Await flights of birds of gold
But instead Bird dream
comes the sombre condor.

March cries before us smile.
Hail falls in midsummer.
The man, born for grief, sighs
And cry before singing.

* Joseph Quesnel (1746-1809)

Dream pleasant

One night the god Morpheus,
... on my eyelid compressed
Distill his softer poppy
I live in a dream in the clouds,
An old man with gray hair;
Who made me hear the words:

Bellone will flee into exile,
Europe of blood watered
regrowth at the bottom of deserts;
And this King George formidable
taming the untamable French,
restore peace to the universe.

Aspen proud and treacherous enemy,
And thy wrath homicide
Hang effects powerless
Albion laughs at your hate,
And you people chained,
He will break the bloody irons.

But what a happy scene opens!
The future is revealed to me ...!
Already I see a thousand ships
Weaving through the liquid plains,
Drivers And less shy
no longer feared that the waves.

March fled the carnage ceases;
peace that kind goddess
Go gather all mortals,
And soon in these prosperous days
The men turned brothers
forehead cense his altars.

Concord finally reborn,
Following him will be forthcoming
The dawn of happier days;
And in their fields made fertile
The laborers free quiet
bless peace in turn.

he said, and suddenly I cry
Old man! whose prophecy
fill our longing,
What do you know of our fate?
I am the father of the year
he says, and I see the future.

At these words the old man takes off,
And a dream all too frivolous
I thought he had abused;
But the success of England
Will know realize I hope
What Time has revealed.

* Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585)

If I passes away in your arms, Ms.

If I passes away in your arms, Mrs. ,

It is enough, because I do not want

greater honor than to see me if

By kissing you, in your womb to the soul.

The Mars horribly inflamed

go to war, and lack of power,

And youthful years, frolicking to receive

In his chest a English blade;

But me, colder, I REQUIRE otherwise

After a hundred years, no glory, no fame,

Dying idle in your lap, Cassandra.

For I am wrong, or is more blessed,

die thus than to have all the honor,

To live bit , a warrior Alexander.

* Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)

To Madame X. ..

By sending a thought

At the time when you loved me (of course?)

You sent me fresh bloom,

A dear little rose,

Fees emblem, pure message.

She said in her speech

The "oaths of first love,"

your heart to me forever

And all things to use.

Three years have passed. Here we come!

But I have kept the memory

From your pink, and my glory

To think even that.

Alas! if I have the recollection,

I have no flower, nor the heart!

It is to the four winds, the flower.

Heart? but, lo I think

Was it mine forever? us?

me, mine is still going well,

There is always simple. An emblem

's my turn. Say, do you want

That weighed everything, I sent you,

selam Sad, but true,

The poor negress it ?

It is not color of joy,

But it is the color of my heart;

I picked some slot

From I walk paved captive

As opposed to just pain.

Does it need more evidence?

Accept it for fun.

I have gone so far as to pluck,

And it is almost a flower-of-widows.

Everything is blue today, blue and yellow, all is bright. everything is soft and peaceful here. Time seems to stop. Good day fleas. Kisses sunny. Ivano

Freedom of expression does not wear that if you do not use it

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A beautiful reading of Black in

Here is a beautiful reading of my book The Black in ( editions Hand Sewn ) by journalist Philip Chauché on his blog. So be thanked here.

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Tonight Borbo read at the Workshop

Friday, March 4 to 20 hours in the library's Workshop (2 bis, rue du Jourdain, Jourdain Metro)

The comedians of the Company will present the 104 Bis, music, Rumbling magazine and its latest issue. With

Michela Orio, Stephanie Boffi Bidegain and Arthur and his guitar, Gilles Bessou.

Will read texts from other authors include: Jean-Claude Pirotte Martin Jeanjean, Thierry Roquet, Guy Bordes, Y. Lebarge Thomas Vinau, Axl ...

Ashes After the presentation, discussion around a few bottles and various appetizers. Come!

Info: Borborygmes.org

http://www.librest.com/spip.php?article571&lib=2&periode=jour&date_debut=2011-03-04&date_fin = 2011-03-05 = 2011-03-01 & & mois_debut mois_fin = 2011-04-01

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that the world is no longer the world

That morning
sitting on the edge of a dream
He finalized his assault

Finally the project was simple
that the world is
over the world
it was enough to reverse

frogs and birds

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Two pigeons. Two perfectly similar to pigeons pigeons. Two pigeons posed perfectly harmless trivially on a hedge perfectly harmless. And Above all this a gray sky of rain, a sky of the week. A small pit of nothing. Both pigeons resting on a branch dull dull dull in the sky. Both pigeons nothing stuck against each other which is smooth wings. Around, life gallops, or stomps, no one notices this very small dose of tenderness and dull gray. And me, I like swimming and I breathe in the deep blue sea

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Go, my soul, hope great!

The wind rushes through the bushes
all black and green, scattered snow
Chilling
In the sunny countryside.
The sour smell is near the woods,
Horizon sings with voice
cocks steeples of the villages
crudely glow on the clouds. This delightful walk

Through the fog light
teasing sometimes rolls up a sale.
Ah! ignore my old fire that cough! I
ants full heels.
Arise, my soul, quick, come!
Spring is still severe, but which at times
s'édulcore
On a warm breath just enough
To better feel the cold past
And think of the God of mercy ...
Go, my soul, hope great!

Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)


From the shortness of life
Most mortals, Paulinus, complain of unfair discipline of nature, that we are born for a life so short that the measurement of time given to us fled with such speed, speed dries up, that with the exception of a very small number, life abandons the rest of mankind, when they were preparing to live.

Seneca

Freedom of expression does not wear that if you do not use it

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The Two Pigeons Diggers

"Emmett and Billy knew that free food every day in the park was a popular act but they do not cncevaient only as a symbol. No, they were hungry as many others and they would keep the free food every day, against everything and for nothing. When donors give tickets as a sign of indirect approval, they would take them, struck a match and burn for the amusement of those who eat. The kid who squatted in the Panhandle were hungry and afraid, was heard, but they depended on themselves for the first time and no matter how long and they did not want the material support of representatives of their parents. The burning of 10-20 tickets symblisait dollars, more than anything else, what they felt and what the Diggers believed.
Ringolevio, Emett Grogan

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Release, 17 Growler, special poetry

The Growler 17 is available. This is a Grognard "special poetry," produced by Beau Gaston Vieujeux and Stéphane a foreword by Luc Vidal, head of the editions of the Small Vehicle.

poets in this volume are:

Teresa Allison-Aziz, Pascale Arguedas, Philippe Ayraud, Bernard Le Blavec Martine Brugiere, Jacques Coly, John Crill, Chantal Dupuy-Dunia, Heptanes fraxion, Cathy Garcia, Michel L'Hostis, Jean-Claude Lamatabois Denis Langlois, Alain Lebeau, Jean-David Lemarie, Jean Lenturlu Guy Lheureux Guy Lorant, Guy Meunier, Yves Moulet, Gregory Parville Henri Philibert, Stephane Prat, Pascal Pratz, The Revoyure, Aude Cervens Rubin, Rene Sartre William Siaudeau, Eric Simon, Collette Thevenet, Aglaia Vadet Luc Vidal, Gaston Vieujeux, Vinau Thomas, Paul-Henry Vincent.

- The "In terms of books" was conducted by: The Goulven Brech, Stephane Beau and

Jean-Louis Millet

- Illustrated Stéphane Prat, Nicolas Desire Frisque, Magali Planes, Cathy Garcia, Sarah Dao, Guy and Jean Lheureux Lenturlu.

- The volume costs 10 € and can be ordered by e-mail us.

- And as we tackle a new year, please not subscribe. It will cost 30 € and you will receive directly in your mailbox 4 issues of the year.

The site Growler

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almond flowers.

And hearts are like a garden that blooms with its almond trees and hollyhocks !
Anna de Noailles (1876-1933)

The almond blossoms promised, so pure, so fresh, so joyous in the skies clear of Haute Provence.

* Anna de Noailles (1876-1933)

Youth

All the fun of living is held in your hands,
O happy youth, ardent, spring,
Around the whirling fury human
As a bee around a branch of fruit!

You run into the fields, and the flight of a pigeon
Done you more shade on the grass sun.
Your eyes are green, like two buds
Your feet have the cottony soft sheets. You live

trunk fruitful cherry
who rely on air their heavy antlers,
Your heart is light as a wicker basket
Lots of bright petals, stems and mature.

is through play that the air and the morning laughs
That water laborious or doleful lights,
And hearts are like a garden that blooms
With its almond and hollyhocks!

It is through you that we are alive and glorious
What hope is over as the full moon,
And the aroma of summer day joyous
Penetrates deep wide chest !

It is through you that we are constantly involved
In the hot, smelly and noisy nature
That is fertile and a field of barley and wheat
Beautiful as the morning and as the greenery.

Ah! youth, why should you spend
And we remain full of trouble and full of age,
Like a tree that lives without ivy and without Rose, who suffers
on the road and no longer shading. ..

http://fr.wikipedia.org/wi ki / Anna_de_Noailles

http://fr.wikipedia.org/wi ki / Almond

"The almond tree is a symbol of virginity: the flowers appearing before the leaves, each branch will then sail completely white, evoking a wedding dress."

"The tree is native to the plateaus and mountains of western Asia. It has been cultivated since 5000 or 6000 years in Iran. It was introduced by the Hebrews in Egypt and brought to Europe by the Greeks . The Romans brought back the amand ... e, which they called "Greek nut" in Italy. The almond tree was introduced in the south of France in the fifth century BC., but he took off that High Middle Ages.

The Arabs diffused throughout the Mediterranean, as and when their conquests. "

Here are the words or lyrics for The almond interpreted by Georges Brassens:

I had the most beautiful From almond
district
And for the hungry mouth
Girls around the world doin
grow almonds
The beautiful, nice job!

A squirrel in petticoats
In a leap came
I dir ' "I am greedy
And my lips feel good
And if you gimme an almond's
J'te kisses knave! "

" Climb as high as you want
That you can
And You crack's, and you peck
Then you nibbled's, and then you
Come down even faster
Give me a kiss right! "When the beautiful

had all eaten eaten
All
" I will pay you, "she said
A full mouth when idiots will
winged
And you will know that fly! "

" Mont 'kiss me if you want

But If you can tell yourself that if you fall
J'n'aurais not a tear in his eye
Tell yourself that if you succumb
I n'porterai not grieve! "Had

course
All Everything's bitten
nibbled my almond crop was lost
My
But her pretty mouth 'greedy
In kisses made me everything!

And the party lasted until
merde / Someone weather
But autumn came, and lightning
And the rain, and south winds have changed my tree
powder
And my love in MEM time!

music:
http://www.youtube.com/wat ch? V = Reeling 8SDW2Go

A branch of almond

Victor LAPRADE

A thousand buttons red and swollen,
And a thousand flowers ivory
form long ribbons and bows starred
On your bark black

Young branch! and yet under his snowy shroud,
In the mist colorless
Between the blue sky and muddy paths
our fleet again in February.

One hour of sunshine, the blue horizon,
The warm morning
You have to believe, alas! the summer
We were reduced. Sometimes

sterile winter suns misleading
And his face is golden;
But one can not mature flowers
which you are ready.

After this sweet ray that shines with love, The night will
mortal
To attach the spring it takes more than one day
And more than one swallow.

Do not burst your pimples all rosy
That cold is not completed;
For the season for real and fruitful suns
Keep your sap. Winter

your flowers will tarnish the purity
And their reign abbreviated;
Their chalices melt, as would the summer,
glass of snow.

Then when the day will shine, everything must revive
Plants and souls
He will use on you, nothing sprouting,
His dew and its flames.

Then everything under heaven, all will be awakened;
All other branches
rise at the open air their ebony and enamel
their white crowns;

And the sun will paint their forehead charming
Their lips nuanced
And the wind As will look languidly
brides. The slopes

red, variegated paths
From flowers and greenery,
All trees of the woods, every meadow grass
will be in their finery.

Everywhere joyous sounds of honey in every flower,
gold on every cloud, you
But in this concert, the voiceless and color
Will naked and ashamed. Never

Songbird has watched over you
The insect buzzing;
You do not give the green summer
Neither fruit in the fall.

One day you took everything: its rays shone
already dead to seduce you;
And you lost all your kids treasures
Played on a smile.

The first flower of almond

Pierre Menauteau -

twentieth century there was an almond
Who on the threshold of February

Believed understood by few light moments
hum.

- Thank you, tell him bees,
You're the first to awaken.

- I'd be the one to buzz? He then awakens
orchard

It awakens butterflies,
It also awakens the drones. He finally awakens


the poet Who felt buzzing in his head

Beyond this almond orchards
All February.

* Alphonse de Lamartine (1790-1869)

branch

almond rod of almond flowers,
... Symbol, alas! beauty,
As you, the flower of life
blooms before summer and fall.

That neglects or that the picks,
From our foreheads, hands of love, she escapes
sheet,
As our day to day pleasures!

savor these short delight;
argue-even in the breeze, the smiling
deplete
chalices of these fragrances will die.

often fleeting beauty
Resembles the flower of the morning
Who on the cold forehead of the guest,
Tomb before the time of the feast.

A day falls, another rises;
Spring will vanish;
Each flower takes the wind
We said: Hasten to enjoy.

And, since they must perish, Truth
perish forever!
What do these roses wither
That under the lips of love!

Freedom of expression does not wear that if you do not use it

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And soon the two is decided:








is two!

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An ant on the ice

I walk like an ant gliding on ice
My ideas sometimes take the color of the night My
words the scent of seeds to germinate reluctant
I walk like a bird on his feet too big
A dog that has a tongue to catch the wind
uncouth My dreams do not fit on their legs But
they keep me standing when the rain lashed

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definitely

It could still be a different story. A crazy story. An amazing story of nothing. The biggest book of the century. The story of a couple. Two people who love each other. Who really love each other. Deeply. You tell me that nobody can know if someone really likes or not. At best, it can realize, in retrospect, that what he took for love was not. But this can take place afterwards. Once the story ended. So it's easy after. One has the impression that it was obvious. But while we are together is another matter. It's like when one says something to someone and it punctuates the demonstration by you see. And the other nods each. So we said of course he sees. And even the other, he who hears the explanation, he said he has seen, since he believes something and see that it has absolutely no way of knowing if what he sees matches what the other wants to see him. We can know that is wrong only after they realized that it was wrong, but never while it is being deceived. This is the trap. But this couple in this case, really loves. From a sincere love. In addition, they speak the same language. I mean, they understand. They are just different enough and similar enough to share for many years. And they have the same worldview. Important things. Those not to be missed. Those against whom to fight. In short, there is something beautiful and long to be built between those two. Perhaps the story of a lifetime. So they are a long way together. They share the daily. Small joys. Small sentences. All the bazaar. And then one day the girl has something. And the guy says simply: Not . And the girl said Ah, yet it would be nice . And the guy responds: Yes I know it would be nice, but I do not feel capable of doing. The girl sees that she has touched a nerve, so despite the fact that this thing really takes it to heart, she will not insist. She replied: Too bad. It's a shame. And : Too bad. It is unfortunate enough to erode the fortress of their hearts. The type is said that he would never have so loved to make her say: Too bad . It's a shame. And it starts to eat away like salt in the eyes. is the first crack. Minuscule. Invisible. Tragic. Definitely. That's the story.

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Bubbles panel

panel Bubbles

Fafa My girlfriend who put the bubbles in her salon, so I was naturally tempted;)

L Former separation for my desk has become very ugly (or so I'm tired of the orange), I wanted to "refresh" this little space that we are quite useful to hide the mess.

Bubbles fabric, thickened by the Wonder Under and bonded with the glue gun on the thick gray linen cloth (Ikea).

It makes me want to continue my deco it all!