(credits: all posters.co.uk)
Le printemps - la saison que j'adore.
Les petites fleurs jaunes, c'est comme du soleil sur la terre. Les petites fleurs jaunes, qui rit avec la brise.
I wander'd lonely as a cloud; That floats on high o'er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;
When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine; And twinkle on the Milky Way,
Continuous as the stars that shine; And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line; Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought; What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie; In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye; Which is the bliss of solitude;
For oft, when on my couch I lie; In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye; Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth (1840)
William Wordsworth (1840)
