J\u2019irai quand le matin a pleur\u00e9 sur les roses
\nDans la campagne verte o\u00f9 fl\u00fbtent les oiseaux ;
\nLe printemps larmoyeur aura, ses mains d\u00e9closes
\nLaiss\u00e9 choir le muguet aux rives des ruisseaux ;<\/p>\n
La lumi\u00e8re aura mis sur les feuilles dansantes
\nCet \u00e9mail argentin qui rit dans un bel \u0153il
\nEt je verrai tourner sur les plaines en pente
\nLa meule du soleil dans ses gerbes d\u2019orgueil.<\/p>\n
Le jour comme une force ing\u00e9nue et contente
\nFera son chemin d\u2019or sur les champs ondul\u00e9s,
\nLa couleuvre luira dans sa fuite glissante,
\nLes ailes m\u00ealeront leurs plaisirs envol\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
J\u2019irai, quand le soir tombe au-dessus des fontaines
\nEt verse les rayons de l\u2019espace aux poissons,
\nM\u2019asseoir pleine de nuit sous les ombres hautaines,
\nAttentive au parler silencieux des sons ;<\/p>\n
Une \u00e9toile, quittant son si\u00e8ge de lumi\u00e8re,
\nTraversera le ciel d\u2019un vol rapide et droit ;
\nJ\u2019entendrai le crapaud clapper dans la rivi\u00e8re
\nEt le croissant pinc\u00e9 fera son rire \u00e9troit.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
J\u2019irai devant la mer qui plisse sa surface
\nEt qui cabre ses flots au coup de fouet du vent ;
\nL\u2019azur rose de l\u2019heure enchantera sa face,
\nL\u2019horreur se cachera sous le miroir mouvant.<\/p>\n
J\u2019irai sur les sommets gr\u00e9sillants de cigales ;
\nSous mon pied comme un cri na\u00eetra l\u2019odeur du thym ;
\nLe ch\u00eane dans la feuille aura tourn\u00e9 la galle,
\nL\u2019abeille attachera ses pattes au butin.<\/p>\n
En bas je pourrai voir les villes et les plaines
\nO\u00f9 les fleuves, couchant leurs bandes de clart\u00e9,
\nUnissent aux lointains leurs humides haleines :
\nL\u2019infini croupira sur ce pays d\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9.<\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
Je marcherai longtemps, l\u2019\u00e2me aveugle et pench\u00e9e,
\nToujours plus \u00e2prement \u00e9prise de savoir ;
\nDu beau flanc de l\u2019azur la lumi\u00e8re arrach\u00e9e
\nD\u2019un geste r\u00e9gulier sur moi fera le soir.<\/p>\n
Tenant entre mes mains le c\u0153ur chaud de la vie,
\nJe sentirai ce c\u0153ur palpiter et bondir
\nEt mon esprit cherchant l\u2019empreinte du g\u00e9nie
\nNe verra qu\u2019un moignon contract\u00e9 de d\u00e9sir.<\/p>\n
Sur le cadavre froid de la mort violette,
\nJe laisserai mes doigt se raidir de terreur ;
\nMais je n\u2019entendrai rien que l\u2019heure et la rainette
\nQui rafra\u00eechit sa voix dans un foss\u00e9 de fleurs.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[561],"poems-book":[562],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[565],"class_list":["post-12222","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-561","poems-book-tandis-que-la-terre-tourne","poete-cecile-sauvage"],"yoast_head":"\n