Major landscape

The hour burns.

Noon lies over the fields.

The pride of each life linked to its splendor,

the sun, high in the dazzling sky,

thrusts its golden sword into the heart of the plain.

There is a bit of shade among the reddish trees.

A hot torpor gives to solitude

the limp appeasement of a sweeter silence

where earth still languishes in lassitude.

But I offer myself to the burning sun, for I wanted

a luminous kiss to descend into my veins.

I lift my undecided heart,

saddened by happiness and charmed by sadness,

so that the wide heaven drunken with brightness

slowly pour into it the strength of its summer.