Petits Poems d'Avril continue en 2018 ...



 
April is the month of many contradictions



Beyond
the moon full
under white pines

faith rises
out of snow drops and rain
into wet leaves and frozen gardens

it falls

from the first
daffodils and asparagus
breaking ground
to the last maple drops

it glides

sap rose
steam bellowed
streams swelled

and hope

quietly abounds

~
Avril est le moi de milles contradictions


le moi tranquille
le moi terrible

le moi glacial
le moi tièdeur

le moi sang froid

quand la terre enfin respire

Un moi(s) sans doubt
Remplis d'espoir

Les folies de Mars
avec tendres lenteurs
disparaissent

et l'imagination retourne
un bourgeon a la foi(s)




 
 
 
Avril en douceur attire l'orage


L'esprit engourdi
l'âme appel
le printemps

Le vent tendrement
réponds

Et dans le silence
éblouissant de la nuit

une petite note a la foi(s)
le clavier résonne.

~

There is nothing gentle about the looming winds of April

They will arrive in full force

Ripping thru the last of the dead branches

And with the passion only Spring knows

They will unwind time

And howl

at the last of the sleeping bears

wake up!

for here it is
your country
Bear Country,
and you are needed.

~

C'est l'appel qui résonne
au-delà
du paysage
sophistiqué des racines
le vent hurle





 
L'appel de minuit
 
lentement
le feu de bois
craquelle
 
la petite neige
illumine
la nuit.
 
~
 
The call of midnight
 
slowly
the wood stove
glows
red
 
a gentle snow
illuminates
the April night.

 

 




























Dans l'air glacial du petit matin
un duvet de neige revêtis le printemps
 
L'hiver a repris sa place au mois d'Avril
 
Et peut-être en fin de semaine,
prochaine,
la temperature retrouvera sa clémence
 
~
 
Daylight is slowly rising
above the deep and delicate
blanket of April snow
 
Behind the old maple
the half moon is setting
in the whispering clouds
 
And in the towering white pines
the wind is howling
 
Spring is long behind
Winter took its place
 
And I learn of
ikigai today
 
 

April 7, 2018

Au soleil couchant,
face à la glace,
la rose languissante 
s'épanouit 
une dernière fois

 
~ in the setting sun, comforting the yellow rose in bloom, ice crystals melt.



Uplifting as the frozen snow
Invigorating as the icy air
Rosie cheeks and all
April has a firm grasp on winter.

And just as I was loosing hope
the sun came out to play



Blue is the light
In the morning sun
17 Fahrenheit 
Is the temperature 
on the little measuring device
And longevity is the message
On my tea cup
Spring has been bullied into a corner
where even the crows are mystified

~

Mystifier le printemps se retourne vers l'hiver et exclame: "moins neuf Celsius! Mais mon ami avez vous perdu la tête!?!"
 




4.9.2018
 
Night rests softly on a blanket of snow.
Freeze dried, yesterday's yellow roses bow their head.
Hope clings to the frozen dark.
And whispers of an early Summer, bypassing Spring, swirl around the piping hot wood-stove.

It's April in all its glory.
 




4.10.2018

The saving grace of snow is that is covers all the matted down signs winter leaves behind. Yet, with incredible persistence the ground swells and greets the air. Today there will be mud, tomorrow too, and snowflakes will be no match for the warming trend. Robins have arrived many days ago now, and soon they will take cover in the naked fields. That is the news on the hill where the little measuring device strains to make it above 21 this morning.


"Moins six! Mais nom d'une pipe je vous dis mon ami c'est mon tour de gérer la terre!"
 
L'ours dors encore

Et les petits oiseaux à la poitrine rouge 
ponde leurs oeufs bleux dans un paysage digne d'Elsa.







At one forty eight am, you can hear, the snow fall

Light and airy,
snow graces 
the April deck.
 
Little bike,
flower pots safely nested 
under the eve,

I woke startled
to a quiet sight

and tiptoed
into the night.



 
In one minute it will be 420
am
 
I can hear the brooke
rushing through the stone
wall covered in emerald moss
 
the echo of the waters
steady in the 40 degree night
 
Rain drip drops from the roof
crashing on the freshly melted deck
 
and in her sleep, quietly the puppy sighs
 
the rains of April have finally arrived.
 
~
 
Il est quatre heure du matin 34 exactement
 
la pluie remplie la nuit
 
mon esprit engourdis se contourne autour des mots
qui échappent dans la douce torpeur du matin encore loin.






 
Wedding cake
coated in generous layers of fondant
that is the world I woke to toady
 
Like hard candy
glistening in the early light
it surrounds each pine needle
every twig
every sight
 
Crystal caves
memories of old
twinkling in the night
April gifts this day
 
~
 
Au petit mating
Avril offre sang
sans retenue
vision de marriage
en forme de gateau
un paysage
revêtit de fondant
scintillant

 

le 17 Avril 2018

Mardi, encore
une semaine de pluie, et de neige,
en perspective
il fera grand beau Dimanche
là, pendant dix jours
le soleil nous rendra grâce
 
on regarde la météo
avec ardeur
le printemps n'est pas venu
l'hiver a repris une place royal
 
la terre
libérée brièvement
est recouverte
de neige
une couche gelée que même la pluie glacial
qui persiste
ne pénètre pas encore.
 
Je crains mes amis
que mes petites fleurs
toutes endormies
doivent attendre lundi.
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