Faux et rateaux !
\nBidons au poing, paniers au dos,
\nUn linge humide enveloppant la gourde,
\nS\u2019en vont, vers l\u2019horizon,
\nLes gens qui font leur fenaison,
\nMalgr\u00e9 l\u2019heure plombante et lourde.<\/p>\n
Nul ne chante : l\u2019air est br\u00fblant.
\nLes carrefours pierreux et blancs
\nTracent leur croix par l\u2019\u00e9tendue.
\nAucune ombre n\u2019est suspendue,
\nNuage en marche, sur l\u2019Escaut.
\nEt les voiles d\u2019un grand bateau,
\nPar au-dessus des digues qui le masquent,
\nApparaissent, vides et flasques.<\/p>\n
Et dans le pr\u00e9, sur double rang, les gars,
\nLe corps virant de droite \u00e0 gauche,
\nFauchent ;
\nFourches hautes, les femmes
\nRemuent, ainsi que des drapeaux en flamme,
\nLes foins \u00e9pars.<\/p>\n
C\u2019est la f\u00eate de la sueur
\n\u00c0 la lueur
\nDes serpes et des piques :
\nL\u2019odeur humaine envahit l\u2019air ;
\nLes bras sont forts, les aciers clairs
\nEt les gestes \u00e9piques.<\/p>\n
De grands torses poilus et roux
\nSe redressent dans la poussi\u00e8re :
\nL\u2019Escaut ondule en vagues de lumi\u00e8re,
\nLes bl\u00e9s roulent, de l\u2019un \u00e0 l\u2019autre bout,
\nL\u2019or des reflets et l\u2019or des moires.
\n\u00c0 cruche pleine, on verse \u00e0 boire.
\nLes servantes vers le fleuve s\u2019en vont
\nRemplir, de temps en temps, les brocs et les bidons
\nEt reviennent, rapides,
\nMoites des flancs, moites des seins,
\nEt maculant le drap de leurs corsages pleins
\nDu bout de leurs tetons humides.<\/p>\n
Sonnent les cloches : c\u2019est midi.
\nLes corps s\u2019allongent pour la sieste ;
\nMais aussit\u00f4t que les heures prestes
\nR\u00e9veillent, tout \u00e0 coup, le travail engourdi,
\nL\u2019ahan reprend.
\nEt c\u2019est jusques au soir les m\u00eames gestes,
\nLa m\u00eame ardeur, le m\u00eame acharnement, debout
\nDans la torride violence,
\nDu silence qui bout.<\/p>\n
Crue et r\u00eache, l\u2019herbe est ras\u00e9e.
\nOn suit, \u00e0 fleur de sol, les empreintes laiss\u00e9es
\nDu vol circulaire des faux.
\nLes foins, de jour en jour, tassent leurs monts plus haut.
\nEt pour les emporter voici les attelages
\nSi lourds et si compacts et si monumentaux,
\nQu\u2019\u00e0 leur rentr\u00e9e on croira voir, le soir, par les hameaux,
\nDes granges pleines qui voyagent.<\/p>\n
Et lorsque le dernier charroi
\nEntre les toits balancera le poids
\nDe sa charge derni\u00e8re,
\nLa fille la plus forte et le plus fier des gas
\nSe camperont en haut du tas,
\nLes corps noy\u00e9s dans l\u2019or et la poussi\u00e8re,
\nLa crasse et la sueur plaquant leur peau
\nEt brandissant, ainsi que des h\u00e9rauts,
\nAu-dessus de leurs fronts durs et t\u00eatus, la faux
\nToute stridente de lumi\u00e8re.<\/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":[278],"poems-book":[696],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15391","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-278","poems-book-les-plaines","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n