Elle est venue de plus loin que les routes
Elle a touché le pré, l'ocre des fleurs
De cette main qui écrit en fumée
Elle a vaincu le temps par le silence.
Davantage de lumière ce soir
A cause de la neige.
On dirait que des feuilles brûlent,
Devant la porte,
Et il y a de l'eau dans le bois qu'on rentre.
Yves Bonnefoy
©All Rights Reserved
***
This is a view of my hometown at Christmas from the fields that lay behind.
It didn't change much since I left so this is pretty much the same view as when I was a teenager.
Looking at the landscape, Joe Jackson's song gently started to ring in my head.
I didn't remember my hometown could be that wonderful.