Sunday Morning, Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

Oh! The awakenings of the villages under the gold of the branches,
Where light and shadow run – and the reeds
And the golden needles of the insects of the waters
And the bars of the wooden bridges and their white crosses.

And the meadow full of flowers and the plank stable
And the jostling of the tubs and the buckets
Around the manger where the pigs swarm,
And the servant girl, with raw sunlight on her sleeves.

These clear awakenings in the mornings! – Little cloaks,
White bonnets and smocks, in small groups,
Were reaching the village and its chalk-colored steeple.

Apples and cherries! – And, above the hedge
Shone the beautiful ripe fruits, and, in the bright orchard,
Abruptly, like a start, laundry snapped in the air.*

Emile Verhaeren

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

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