In a good mood

We were walking in a fine rain

under a soot-coloured sky.

The wind blew.

The wood seemed to touch the clouds,

and its thin, naked carcass

trembled with cold.

Gaily we faced the storm.

Hurrying, head down,

Ninon sang,

and sometimes along our way

a bird answered her

in its clear language.

Rosy-cheeked from the fresh air,

she smiled as she splashed

in the mud.

Despite the somber winter,

our hearts hold a rose

that flowers again.