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These two are from my collection Sun On The Hill. 'The Storm' is actually an English version of one I wrote first in French. I was in France at the time. Wouldn't attempt it now, but think I'll post it here before the English version. I still prefer the French original.

L'ORAGE

La montaigne est devenue amoureuse du ciel Et donc les éléments nous ont oubliés. Les nuages gris sont déscendus chez elle, Lui ont caché la tête et voilé les pieds.

Là-haut, bien au delà de nos orreilles, Ils ont fait de l'amour, le ciel et sa montaigne. Ici, dans la vallée, il n'y-a pas de soleil; Même la rivière se tait et le monde s'éloigne.

Ecoute, mon cher, fais pas de bruit. Le ciel a pleuré, et ses larmes tombent Sur les arbres comme le pluie. La montaigne est devenue amoureuse du ciel Et donc les éléments nous ont oubliés. Les nuages gris sont déscendus chez elle, Lui ont caché la tête et voilé les pieds.

Là-haut, bien au delà de nos orreilles, Ils ont fait de l'amour, le ciel et sa montaigne. Ici, dans la vallée, il n'y-a pas de soleil; Même la rivière se tait et le monde s'éloigne.

Ecoute, mon cher, fais pas de bruit. Le ciel a pleuré, et ses larmes tombent Sur les arbres comme le pluie.


THE STORM The mountain has fallen in love with the wide imperturbable sky And has summoned the clouds To shroud her face from our eyes.

Behind the grey cloud curtains, ragged and rent by the storm, they have made love – the sky and his mountain.

Here in the cwm all is still even the river is silent and the pain of the world recedes and darkens.

Listen, my love, hush and harken – the sky is weeping and his tears fall on the trees as rain.


A ROBIN ON A LEARNING CURVE

Today, in the snow that has cut me off from postman and the world, a robin came to feed and tried to emulate the tits, who hang from one leg beside their nut-rich lunch or suspend themselves inverted on the fat-filled shell that dangles from a branch.

In pity for his plight I fixed a tray into the tree with porridge oats and seeds that he might dine in style and safety.

Amid the swirling snow, a swirling cloud of birds descended on the tray, finches, tits and sparrows delighted with the feast. News spreads fast in a bird’s eye view when food is of the essence.

And the robin? With frantic fluttering of wings and stabbing bill he’s still practising precarious acrobatics -- a new apprentice to an awkward skill.









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