CHANSON D\u2019AUTOMNE<\/p>\n
D\u00e9j\u00e0 plus d\u2019une feuille s\u00e8che
\nPars\u00e8me les gazons jaunis ;
\nSoir et matin, la brise est fra\u00eeche :
\nH\u00e9las ! les beaux jours sont finis !<\/p>\n
On voit s\u2019ouvrir les fleurs que garde
\nLe jardin, pour dernier tr\u00e9sor :
\nLe dahlia met sa cocarde,
\nEt le souci sa toque d\u2019or.<\/p>\n
La pluie au bassin fait des bulles ;
\nLes hirondelles sur le toit
\nTiennent des conciliabules :
\nVoici l\u2019hiver, voici le froid !<\/p>\n
Elles s\u2019assemblent par centaines,
\nSe concertant pour le d\u00e9part.
\nL\u2019une dit : \u00ab Oh ! que dans Ath\u00e8nes
\nIl fait bon sur le vieux rempart !<\/p>\n
\u00ab Tous les ans j\u2019y vais et je niche
\nAux m\u00e9topes du Parth\u00e9non.
\nMon nid bouche dans la corniche
\nLe trou d\u2019un boulet de canon. \u00bb<\/p>\n
L\u2019autre : \u00ab J\u2019ai ma petite chambre
\n\u00c0 Smyrne, au plafond d\u2019un caf\u00e9.
\nLes Hadjis comptent leurs grains d\u2019ambre
\nSur le seuil, d\u2019un rayon chauff\u00e9.<\/p>\n
\u00ab J\u2019entre et je sors, accoutum\u00e9e
\nAux blondes vapeurs des chiboucks,
\nEt parmi des flots de fum\u00e9e
\nJe rase turbans et tarboucks. \u00bb<\/p>\n
Celle-ci : \u00ab J\u2019habite un triglyphe
\nAu fronton d\u2019un temple, \u00e0 Balbeck ;
\nJe m\u2019y suspends avec ma griffe
\nSur mes petits au large bec. \u00bb<\/p>\n
Celle-l\u00e0 : \u00ab Voici mon adresse :
\nRhodes, palais des chevaliers ;
\nChaque hiver, ma tente s\u2019y dresse
\nAu chapiteau des noirs piliers. \u00bb<\/p>\n
La cinqui\u00e8me : \u00ab Je ferai halte.
\nCar l\u2019\u00e2ge m\u2019alourdit un peu,
\nAux blanches terrasses de Malte,
\nEntre l\u2019eau bleue et le ciel bleu. \u00bb<\/p>\n
La sixi\u00e8me : \u00ab Qu\u2019on est \u00e0 l\u2019aise
\nAu Caire, en haut des minarets !
\nJ\u2019emp\u00e2te un ornement de glaise,
\nEt mes quartiers d\u2019hiver sont pr\u00eats.<\/p>\n
\u00ab \u00c0 la seconde cataracte, \u2014
\nFait la derni\u00e8re, \u2014 j\u2019ai mon nid ;
\nJ\u2019en ai not\u00e9 la place exacte.
\nDans le pschent d\u2019un roi de granit. \u00bb<\/p>\n
Toutes : \u00ab Demain, combien de lieues
\nAuront fil\u00e9 sous notre essaim,
\nPlaines brunes, pics blancs, mers bleues
\nBrodant d\u2019\u00e9cume leur bassin ! \u00bb<\/p>\n
Avec cris et battements d\u2019ailes,
\nSur la moulure aux bords \u00e9troits,
\nAinsi jasent les hirondelles,
\nVoyant venir la rouille aux bois.<\/p>\n
Je comprends tout ce qu\u2019elles disent,
\nCar le po\u00e8te est un oiseau ;
\nMais, captif, ses \u00e9lans se brisent
\nContre un invisible r\u00e9seau !<\/p>\n
Des ailes ! des ailes ! des ailes !
\nComme dans le chant de Ruckert,
\nPour voler l\u00e0-bas, avec elles.
\nAu soleil d\u2019or, au printemps vert !<\/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":[647],"poems-book":[648],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[614],"class_list":["post-13868","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-647","poems-book-emaux-et-camees","poete-theophile-gautier"],"yoast_head":"\n