—A little lamb ruminating, stretched out beside its mother, its little eyes half-closed.<\/p>\n
—A puppy, who seems to be dead-asleep, beginning to growl while it dreams.<\/p>\n
—The first whinny of a little foal.<\/p>\n
—A black cat, curled up in the sun, purring at her white kitten nursing.<\/p>\n
—Hatched three days ago, a chick scratching the ground, pulling a little worm out of its hole; running away with it, his siblings after him, hurrying to steal his prey from him.<\/p>\n
—In a grey sky, the pliant branch of a blackish fir-tree balancing a crow.<\/p>\n
—At the time of nesting, on the cartpath two warblers: the male, his feathers fluffed out, dancing and making gestures at his female.<\/p>\n
—A dog asleep on its master’s jacket on top of the furrow.<\/p>\n
—A squirrel gnawing a pine-cone, so comical, seated on a branch. All around you the smell of thyme.<\/p>\n
—During a windy day, the efforts of a magpie, with a twig in her beak. She flies sideways, one might say. She has trouble reaching her nest in the highest branch of the black-elm.<\/p>\n
—A little foal taking a piece of sugar from the open palm of a child.<\/p>\n
—A pullet singing with pride and astonishment at her first egg.<\/p>\n
—The big wheel of a mill churning water, that turns to foam as white as wheat flour.<\/p>\n
—The dripping of a creek that cannot be seen for the hemlock.<\/p>\n
—The music of a ruddy chestnut falling from its stem across the leaves, each leaf giving its own light note.<\/p>\n
—Medlars ripening, like brown roses, in a thicket half stripped, its last leaves so red as if the sun had set in front of the tree.<\/p>\n
—A large spider crawling on the white wall one night when you are lost in your thoughts. You are not at all superstitious, but a spark of hope suddenly arises inside of you.<\/p>\n
—A wren singing gaily, its tail stiff on the curved edge of the apple-press.<\/p>\n
April 1965.<\/p>\n
Translated by Lenora Timm<\/p>\n