Dans le jardin de l'Hôtel des Marronniers, Paris // In Hotel des Marronniers' garden, Paris
Le Jardin de l'Hôtel des Marronniers est un petit secret, comme un joyau d'intimité caché au coeur de Saint-Germain des Près. Nul ne reste insensible au charme et à la magie du lieu. Propice aux pauses bucoliques ou littéraires, il respire et inspire au gré du vent. En été, il est un ravissement pour les clients ainsi que pour les passants curieux de découvrir le 21 rue Jacob...
L'un des hôtes de l'Hôtel des Marronniers a pris place dans le jardin et a débuté un poème qu'il nous a transmis par la suite. Avec son accord, nous le partageons avec vous aujourd'hui en espérant que vous l'apprécierez tout autant que nous...
Merci Beaucoup à Terry Buchanan pour ce joli cadeau aux rimes familières.
Francophones, veuillez nous excuser mais les vers suivants sont en anglais.
***
Hotel des Marronniers' Garden is a little secret, like a hidden gem of intimacy in the heart of Saint-Germain des Pres. No one is insensitive to the charm and magic of the place. Suitable for bucolic or literary breaks, it breathes and inspires into the wind. In summer, it is a delight for customers as well as for curious passersby to discover the 21 rue Jacob .
One of Hotel des Marronniers' guests took place in the garden and started a poem he has sent us. With his agreement, we share it with you today and we hope you will enjoy it as much as we do ...
Thank you to Terry Buchanan for that beautiful present...
Francophones, we apologize, but following verses are in English.
PARIS.
No Moulins de Daudet on sun blanch’d stone
for this is the cultured pearl of Europe’s
throne
no clickety-click when the cigale sings
or olive groves ‘neath the belfry rings
Paris, city of all that one might know
vitality of age set in a mellowed glow
Mouffetard buskers play the discord of jazz
as crossroad fountains splish and splash
The smoothest walls of pure trouve’d heart
obelisks in military marching squares
this love of life and life of art
once the realm of Bonaparte
Its ribboned river banks of cobbled ridge
for iron wheels of death borne royal carts
laced by ornate artisan carved bridges
now student picnics on the pont-des-arts
Within the ring of périphérique walls
are entombed the famed in Lachaise’s halls
Sarcophagi in serried rows
maison’s chez nous for history’s greats
in life more gilded than heaven’s gates
Étoiles are the stars which grace its love of
life
they light the jewels set in Parisien playful
nights
history flows in the silver Seine and
those
who love this place are confidante to its
delights
The façades endure the brief kiss of winter
and reflect the summer heat
but within these perfect stone bed walls
the heart of many loving lovers beat
Paris I have loved you all my many years
you have been the sweetness in my longing
tears
you are the loving beat within my heart
and I love you more each time we part
Terry Buchanan
