Je vais ou le vent me mène

French used to be the main foreign language in Romania a couple of decades ago. Below is a poem that my grandmother used to recite during my childhood up to these very days.
The photos are taken some days ago in the Dacia Park in central Baia Mare; they are likely to be the last autumn photos of this season as the weather is turning more and more towards freezing rain and darkness. We even got snow in the nearby mountains…
Although the poem is rather simple and naïve, it still bears the central metaphor for the life of my grandma: “I go where the wind is taking me, without crying or being afraid”. Something which I obviously can’t.

BM November 2015 1

La Feuille – Antoine Vincent Arnault

De ta tige détachée,
Pauvre feuille desséchée,
Où vas-tu ? – Je n’en sais rien.
L’orage a brisé le chêne
Qui seul était mon soutien.
De son inconstante haleine
Le zéphyr ou l’aquilon
Depuis ce jour me promène
De la forêt à la plaine,
De la montagne au vallon.
Je vais ou le vent me mène,
Sans me plaindre ou m’effrayer :
Je vais où va toute chose,
Où va la feuille de rose
Et la feuille de laurier.

BM November 2015 2


2 thoughts on “Je vais ou le vent me mène

  1. Leaf – Antoine Vincent Arnault

    Spare thy rod,
    Poor withered leaf,
    Where are you going ? – I do not know.
    The storm broke the oak
    That alone was my support.
    His fickle breath
    The zephyr or north wind
    Since then walk around
    From the forest to the plain,
    From the mountain to valley.
    I go where the wind takes me,
    Without complaining or frighten me:
    I go where anything goes,
    Whither rose leaf
    And bay leaf.

    Liked by 2 people

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