Le ciel est chaud, le vent est mou ;
\nQuel silence dans Agrigente !
\nUn temple roux, sur le sol roux
\nMet son reflet comme une tente\u2026<\/p>\n
Les oiseaux chantent dans les airs ;
\nLe soleil ravage la plaine ;
\nJe vois, au bout de ce d\u00e9sert,
\nL\u2019indolente mer africaine.<\/p>\n
Brusquement un cri triste et fort
\nPerce l\u2019air intact et sans vie ;
\nLa voix qui dit que Pan est mort
\nM\u2019a-t-elle jusqu\u2019ici suivie ?<\/p>\n
Et puis l\u2019air retombe ; la mer
\nFrappe la rive comme un socle ;
\nTout dort. Un fanal rouge et vert
\nS\u2019allume au vieux port Emp\u00e9docle.<\/p>\n
L\u2019ombre vient, par calmes remous.
\nDans l\u2019\u00e9ther pur et path\u00e9tique
\nLes astres installent d\u2019un coup
\nLeur brasillante arithm\u00e9tique !<\/p>\n
\u2014 Soudain, sous mon balcon branlant,
\nJ\u2019entends des moissonneurs, des filles
\nD\u00e9fricher un champ de bl\u00e9 blanc,
\nQui gicle au contact des faucilles ;<\/p>\n
Et leur fi\u00e8vre, leur s\u00e8che ardeur,
\nLeur clameur nocturne et pa\u00efenne
\nImitent, dans l\u2019air plein d\u2019odeurs,
\nLe cri des nuits \u00e9leusiennes !<\/p>\n
Un p\u00e2tre, sur un lourd mulet,
\nMonte la c\u00f4te tortueuse ;
\nSa chanson lascive accolait
\nLa noble nuit silencieuse ;<\/p>\n
Dans les lis, lourds de pollen brun,
\nLe b\u00ealement m\u00e9lancolique
\nD\u2019une ch\u00e8vre, ivre de parfums,
\nSemble une fl\u00fbte bucolique.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Donc, je vous vois, cit\u00e9 des dieux,
\nLampe d\u2019argile consum\u00e9e,
\nAgrigente au nom spacieux,
\nVous que Pindare a tant aim\u00e9e !<\/p>\n
Porteuse d\u2019un songe \u00e9ternel,
\n\u00d4 compagne de Pythagore !
\nC\u2019est vous cette ruche sans miel,
\nCette \u00e9parse et gisante amphore !<\/p>\n
C\u2019est vous ces enclos d\u2019amandiers,
\nCe sol dur que les b\u0153ufs gravissent,
\nCe d\u00e9sert de s\u00e8ches m\u00e9lisses,
\nO\u00f9 mon \u00e2me vient mendier.<\/p>\n
Ah ! quelle indigente agonie !
\nEt l\u2019on comprendrait mon \u00e9moi,
\nSi l\u2019on savait ce qu\u2019est pour moi
\nUn peu de l\u2019Hellade infinie ;<\/p>\n
Car, sur ce rivage humble et long,
\nDans ce calme et morne d\u00e9sastre,
\nLe vent des fl\u00fbtes d\u2019Apollon
\nPasse entre mon c\u0153ur et les astres !<\/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":[274],"poems-book":[594],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[611],"class_list":["post-13071","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-274","poems-book-les-vivants-et-les-morts","poete-anna-de-noailles"],"yoast_head":"\n