Heure d'automne

Emile Verhaeren 1855 (Sint-Amands) – 1916 (Rouen)



C'est bien mon deuil, le tien, ô l'automne dernière !
Râles que roule, au vent du nord, la sapinière,
Feuillaison d'or à terre et feuillaison de sang,
Sur des mousses d'orée ou des mares d'étang,
Pleurs des arbres, mes pleurs, mes pauvres pleurs de sang.

C'est bien mon deuil, le tien, ô l'automne dernière !
Secousses de colère et rages de crinière,
Buissons battus, mordus, hachés, buissons crevés,
Au double bord des longs chemins, sur les pavés,
Bras des buissons, mes bras, mes pauvres bras levés.

C'est bien mon deuil, le tien, ô l'automne dernière ?
Quelque chose, là-bas, broyé dans une ornière,
Qui grince immensément ses désespoirs ardus
Et qui se plaint, ainsi que des arbres tordus,
Cris des lointains, mes cris, mes pauvres cris perdus.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

40 sec read
106

Quick analysis:

Scheme Aabbb Aaccc Aaccc
Closest metre Iambic heptameter
Characters 765
Words 126
Stanzas 3
Stanza Lengths 5, 5, 5

Emile Verhaeren

Emile Verhaeren was a Belgian poet who wrote in the French language, and one of the chief founders of the school of Symbolism. more…

All Emile Verhaeren poems | Emile Verhaeren Books

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