The sun blows the balloons   
 the silence   
 motionless trees   
 the companions of the second scratch the floor   
 the night was incomplete   
 dreams where I couldn't follow   
 in the course you had to make figures   
 on foot and by bike   
 and make it harmonious   
 I refused nothing   
 i was just trying   
 once I even anticipated    
 but i got lost   
 " failure in the countryside ".  
    
 Friends will soon appear   
 this morning it will be market day   
 then climb to Col de Gilly   
 at noon meal up there   
 then descent around two o'clock   
 to meet the photographer's wife   
 and visit the Queyras History Museum   
 Finally back in front of the TV for the Tour de France.      

 The fir trees weave the mist on the edge of summer   
 kitchen utensils shine   
 in front of the snapping sun   
 the fridge hums.   
   
 throw a stone in the river   
 would be first leads   
 at the thousand terminals of the day.  
    
 The Laguiole placed between shadow and light   
 on the blue tablecloth in the living room   
 the flies chew some food   
 on the white hairs of my arms. 
     
 I tighten a notch   
 the candelabra of expectations   
 in the hollow of the bundle of sheaves   
 that had to be lifted   
 firm fork   
 on the lift cart   
 gable after gable   
 towards the large harvest paillou.   

   
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