Rustic Twilight

Poem by Charles-Nérée Beauchemin Collection Patrie intimePeriod 19th century

The depth of the western sky has been tinged
With the yellow of ripe straw and rusted foliage,
And, as long as the clear glow is not extinguished,
The gaze that rises is full of wonder.

The shades of clear gold seem all new.
The heavenly field ripples and hollows into furrows,
Like a stubble field, where the saffron of the sheaves gleams,
Which a breeze scatters and rolls into swaths.

Laden with amber stacks, where flickers, at intervals,
The reflection of the sun’s softened rays,
The cloud, from space to space, descends,
Drifts, sinks, plunges to the vermilion horizon.

But the shadow, slowly, crosses the countryside,
And glides, with light flight, to the bottom of the golden plains.
September, glorious, behind the mountain,
Has rolled, for the night, the chariot of Messidor.

Charles-Nérée Beauchemin

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-rustic-twilight-charles-neree-beauchemin/