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Victor HUGO ! (1802-1885) Seeding
season. Evening
is the twilight moment.
I admire, sitting under a gate,
This remnant of daylight illuminated
by the last hour of work.
In the land, at night bathed,
I contemplate, moved, the rags
of an old man who throws
the future harvest to the furrows.
Its high black silhouette
dominates deep ploughing.
We can feel how much he must believe
in the useful escape of days.
He walks in the immense plain,
Goes, comes, throws the seed far away,
Reopens his hand, and starts again,
And I meditate, obscure witness,
While, unfolding his veils,
The shadow, where a rumor mingle,
Seems to widen to the stars
The august gesture of the sower.
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