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Mini-ode d' avril

Le papillon d'avril ,
aux ailes si graciles,
vient poser sa topaze,
son éventail fragile,
sur ma chaise, au matin.
 
Il se tient immoblie,
Est-il fleur ou bien un
elfe aux couleurs subtiles?
 
Puis il repart et file
au loin, vers son destin.
 
Il ne resta
- de son exil
- de mon extase
qu'une goutte de chagrin.
 
Pour Vera Jahnke.
 
Tradução

April little ode

The April butterfly,
with its long and frail wings
comes and lays its topaze
its subtle so thin fan
on my chair in morning.
 
It stays there, not moving.
Is it a flower or
a lightly coloured fay?
 
Takes off after a while
towards its destiny.
 
There only remained -O
- of its exile
- of my ecstasy
but a drop of sorrow.
 
For Vera Jahnke
 
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