The village

The dawn

has gilded our fields

and the cicada

is singing.

The shy butterfly,

flattering courtier,

honours the flower

with a swift kiss.

The swallow

has left its nest

and gone winging off

into the heavens.

Its young family,

still weak,

hops on the roof

and finally takes off.

Over there, there's a bark

that the gay boatman

has entrusted to the rebellious waves.

Soon the shepherdess

embarks in the frail skiff

and flees the land

with her shepherd.

Farther, brilliant youth

runs up and hides

in the thick shadow;

here, near her mother,

the young shepherdess hides her many plans

as she casts more than one net.

Finally,

dark night

lends its shadow

to the day's pleasures.

Sad Morpheus

spills his poppies

and ends the day

in sweet repose.