My Master at his hermitage
Amid peaks which emerald touches the skies,
You live freely forgetting the years.
I part the clouds to search the ancient road;
And lean against trees to listen for the springs.
In the softness of blossoms, the black oxen rest.
Under tall pine trees, whites cranes doze to sleep
While we talked, twilight has fallen on the river
And I cam down in the cold and the mist.
——————————————-
Three mornings
One morning for frozen snow,
I talked you about it;
Two days ago!
And the snow, she came back.
Such a surprise!
For I stood early that morning!
And the usual iced dew covered the flat roof.
Too early, I thought,
And back, I was under the eider-down!
I heard some shouts,
And exclamation!
“All is white!
The streets and the roofs!”
Not yet fully there, I couldn’t believe it!
There I was wrong and good wrong!
The snow, she kept on falling.
Dogs, what are we gonna do?
Some clearing and up we go!
O! No! She is a-smelting!
The road has already its dirty look…
And it is not so safe, or is it?
To walk on the foot-path.
Arriving at the dirt road!
Life is in reverse, yes! It is!
Nobody has been there, yet!
And it is mid-day…
The feeling to be the first!
To enter it, to spoil it…
Will it ever disappeared?
On the way back,
I met the gentle man.
Yes, dear, on his bike.
He too was on virgin snow
As I walked left and so did he.
We had a nice talk in all that whiteness.
Snow, farming, work, wife and dogs!
Today, after all the misty mornings,
King Sun is back full force.
The days! O! They are a-stretching
