The four winds of the four seasons Warm and relaxing
The wind of spring
Warm and velvety
The mistral summer
Light and monotonous
The autumn breeze
Icy storm and bitter
Winter
Spring
Here are the long days, light, love, madness! Here
spring! March, April and sweet smile,
May flowers, June burning all spring and summer friends!
Poplars on the banks of rivers asleep
bend gently like large flippers ;
The bird flutters in the woods warm and quiet;
It seems that any laughs, and the trees are green
happy to be together and say verses.
The day comes topped with a fresh and tender blade;
The evening is full of love, the night is like hearing,
Through the shadows and under the immense sky blessed
Something to sing happy infinity.
Victor Hugo All lyre
Summer
Through blue summer evenings, I go down the paths, Getting pricked
by the corn, crushing the short grass:
dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I let the wind bathe my bare head.
I will not, I do not think about nothing: But endless love
mount in my soul, And
go far, far away, like a gypsy,
By Nature - happy as a woman .
Arthur Rimbaud Sensation (Poems)
Autumn Dawn is less clear, the air cooler, less pure heaven;
The foggy night tarnishes the stars of azure.
The long days are gone ; Month charming finish.
Alas! Here the trees already turning yellow!
As time goes one step precipitate!
It seems that our eyes, dazzled summer
Have barely had time to see the green leaves.
Who lives like me open windows
Fall is sad with its wind and fog,
And summer is fleeing from a friend.
Goodbye, "said the voice in our soul cries,
Goodbye, blue sky! beautiful sky a warm breath touches!
Voluptés the outdoors, sound of wings in the woods,
walks, ravines full distant voices,
Flowers, soothed souls of innocent happiness,
Farewell, radiation! blades! songs! pink!
Then it adds softly: "O blessed days and sweet!
Alas! you come back! you find me?
Victor Hugo
Dawn is less clear .. Winter
In winter the earth is crying;
The cold sun, pale and sweet,
comes late and left early,
Tired of appointment.
Their romance is bleak.
- Sun! love! - Let.
O earth, so where are your roses?
- Astre, so where are your shelves?
It takes a pretext, Hail, Wind
, black or white cloud,
And said: - It is night, my pretty! - And the fact
going away;
Like a lover who withdraws
Every day his heart node,
And, not knowing what to say,
Goes as soon as he can.
Victor Hugo In winter the earth is crying