Le passeur d\u2019eau, les mains aux rames,
\n\u00c0 contre flot, depuis longtemps,
\nLuttait, un roseau vert entre les dents.<\/p>\n
Mais celle h\u00e9las ! qui le h\u00e9lait
\nAu del\u00e0 des vagues, l\u00e0-bas,
\nToujours plus loin, par au del\u00e0 des vagues,
\nParmi les brumes reculait.<\/p>\n
Les fen\u00eatres, avec leurs yeux,
\nEt le cadran des tours, sur le rivage,
\nLe regardaient peiner et s\u2019acharner,
\nEn un ploiement de torse en deux
\nEt de muscles sauvages.<\/p>\n
Une rame soudain cassa
\nQue le courant chassa,
\n\u00c0 vagues lourdes, vers la mer.<\/p>\n
Celle l\u00e0-bas qui le h\u00e9lait,
\nDans les brumes et dans le vent, semblait
\nTordre plus follement les bras,
\nVers celui qui n\u2019approchait pas.<\/p>\n
Le passeur d\u2019eau, avec la rame survivante,
\nSe prit \u00e0 travailler si fort
\nQue tout son corps craqua d\u2019efforts
\nEt que son c\u0153ur trembla de fi\u00e8vre et d\u2019\u00e9pouvante.<\/p>\n
D\u2019un coup brusque, le gouvernail cassa
\nEt le courant chassa
\nCe haillon morne, vers la mer.<\/p>\n
Les fen\u00eatres, sur le rivage,
\nComme des yeux grands et fi\u00e9vreux
\nEt les cadrans des tours, ces veuves
\nDroites, de mille en mille, au bord des fleuves,<\/p>\n
Fixaient, obstin\u00e9ment,
\nCet homme fou, en son ent\u00eatement
\n\u00c0 prolonger son fol voyage.<\/p>\n
Celle l\u00e0-bas qui le h\u00e9lait,
\nDans les brumes, hurlait, hurlait,
\nLa t\u00eate effrayamment tendue
\nVers l\u2019inconnu de l\u2019\u00e9tendue.<\/p>\n
Le passeur d\u2019eau, comme quelqu\u2019un d\u2019airain,
\nPlant\u00e9, dans la temp\u00eate bl\u00eame,
\nAvec l\u2019unique rame, entre ses mains,
\nBattait les flots, mordait les flots quand m\u00eame.
\nSes vieux regards hallucin\u00e9s
\nVoyaient les loins illumin\u00e9s
\nD\u2019o\u00f9 lui venait toujours la voix
\nLamentable, sous les cieux froids.<\/p>\n
La rame derni\u00e8re cassa
\nQue le courant chassa
\nComme une paille, vers la mer.<\/p>\n
Le passeur d\u2019eau, les bras tombants,
\nS\u2019affaissa morne, sur son banc,
\nLes reins rompus de vains efforts,
\nUn choc heurta sa barque, \u00e0 la d\u00e9rive,
\nIl regarda, derri\u00e8re lui, la rive :
\nIl n\u2019avait pas quitt\u00e9 le bord.<\/p>\n
Les fen\u00eatres et les cadrans,
\nAvec des yeux b\u00e9ats et grands
\nConstat\u00e8rent sa ruine d\u2019ardeur,
\nMais le tenace et vieux passeur
\nGarda tout de m\u00eame, pour Dieu sait quand,
\nLe roseau vert, entre ses dents.<\/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":[201],"poems-book":[688],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15207","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-201","poems-book-les-villages-illusoires","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n