'... Le premier Mai c'est pas gai,
Je trime a dit le muguet,
Dix fois plus que d'habitude,
Regrettable servitude.
Muguet, sois pas chicaneur,
Car tu donnes du bonheur,
Pas cher à tout un chacun.
Brin d' muguet, tu es quelqu'un. ...'
Georges Brassens
20 comments:
Le mois de mai est aussi le mois de Marie,
Voici le mois de mai où les fleurs volent au vent !
Où les fleurs volent au vent, si jolie mignonne !
Où les fleurs volent au vent, si mignonnement !
Le gentil fils du Roi s'en va les ramassant (bis)
S'en va les ramassant, si jolie mignonne !
« Femme de mai plaît toujours. »
My French isn't good enough to understand your poem.
Thought I'd stop by and say hello anyway, though. Haven't been here for a while!
For " petifilou " hip! Hip!
Said with the lily of the valley …
May is also the month of Marie,
Here is May when flowers fly from the wind!
Where flowers fly from the wind, so attractive good-looking!
Where flowers fly from the wind, so handsomely!
The kind son of King goes away collecting them (encore) goes away collecting them, so attractive good-looking!
" Woman of May always pleases. "
One can less beautiful!?!
Friendship petifilou
Dip Dop, many thanks for yet another lovely poem :-)
Peti, I always appreciate your visit. May the Lily of the valley bring you happiness...
Er, I think it was YOUR poem Petiflou didn't get, MKWM...
You are maybe right!! Tippler, unless being an idiot, I would not begin again!!
I know, Tippler, I know... Anyway, the more, the better, isn't it?
So Dip Dop, your French poetry is most welcome ANYTIME.
Quand j'étais petit Je n'étais pas grand ? Tien ! Pourquoi petit ? J’avais toujours la réponse avant mes petits camarades ! On me dit souvent que j'ai la langue bien pendu alors je ne sais pas trop combien de km elle fait ?, donc je n’abandonne pas !
Comme on voit sur la branche, au mois de Mai,
la rose, en sa belle jeunesse, en sa première fleur
Rendre le ciel jaloux de sa vive couleur,
quand l'aube de ses pleurs au point du jour l'arrose
La grâce dans sa feuille et l'amour se repose
Embaumant les jardins et les arbres d'odeur
(Pierre de Ronsard)
Ici on the first of May we are awakened at crack of dawn by the Hobby Horse. And one of these days I'll get up in time to see it.
I have muguet de bois in the gsrden which my son brought from France
My mother used to say:
"Avril, n'enlève pas un fil,
Mai, fais ce qui te plait."
Here up the NE coast, it's:
"Don't cast a clout till May is out!"
And the saying is certainly right because while the rest of the UK is basking in sunshine, we are fighting the cold mist.
Ah, back are we? Goth has promised to cast a spell for me too. If it has this effect on my blogging, I'm looking forward to it.
uwclly - a Welsh insult in which one calls someone a gumboot.
Il s'en est allé le temps du muguet
Comme un vieil ami fatigué
Pour toute une année pour se faire oublier
En partant il nous a laissé
Un peu de son printemps
Beaux jours
Did.
Of course you are someone, that didn't need to be said.
But Cream is 'May out' the blossom or the month? I've never fathomed.
Whenever I want to make my mum like me for ten minutes I buy her Lily of the Valley soap cos it reminds her of when she had me cos that was the soap she took with her to hospital.
Probably the only time she liked me.
Oui Crabtree, j'adore les vol-au-vents! Et un plus, je suis une femme de mai.
Is Goth a witch, then? Hm, I'll have to invite him round to a coven meeting.
Un poète doit laisser des traces de son passage, non des preuves.
Seules les traces font rêver.
Where are you? Come back at once
Tristesse, elles chantent et pourtant tu n’es pas là !!
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