by Sabine Sicaud
The Gavaudun Valley
Don't talk to me about its tower,
About its ruins reddening,
About its foliage blanketing
In shade the dim-lit leafy bower.
The gorge is all too cool, too green.
The stream goes trickling, snakes its course
Between the rocks, twists, scarcely seen
Too thick the grass!-where forest gorse
Holds its breath's virgin mystery.
Don't talk about its inn to me,
About the river's moss and fern,
And crayfish caught at every turn.
Twilight's transparent peace was not
What I saw in this calm sojourn,
Nor the high crests that time forgot.
Last updated March 19, 2023