Des Fleurs Sauvages

Os campos de França estavam cheios de papoilas e outras flores silvestres… um espectáculo digno de ser visto. Sempre que passávamos por campos assim, lembrava-me deste quadro de Monet:
The fields of France were full of poppies and other wildflowers… what a view. Whenever we’d go through fields like these, I’d think of this paiting by Monet:
Claude Monet, Les Pavots à Argenteuil, 1873, Musée d’Orsay, Paris

Noutro campo, não resisti a fazer um ramo com o que havia à mão. Ah, como gosto de flores espontâneas!
In another field, I couldn’t resist making a small bouquet with whatever I could find. Oh, how I love spontaneous flowers!
[behind the scenes]

(images: Tiago Cabral)

19 thoughts on “Des Fleurs Sauvages

  1. Myrian Lavourinha says:

    Obrigada por me fazer sentir a beleza dos campos da França e Inglaterra mesmo estando do outro lado do Atlântico.
    Sou sua visitante assídua e apreciadora do seu blog.


  2. Anonymous says:

    What wonderful flowers ! If you want to keep your poppies for (quite) a long time in a vase, you have to burn the end of the stem, so that the sap remains in the stem.

    Anne from France


  3. Lindy in Brisbane says:

    The sight of those poppies is always bitter-sweet to me, and I am reminded of this poem written in 1915 by a Canadian soldier, which is always read here in Australia on ANZAC Day. (The day we commemorate those lost in conflict).

    In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
    Between the crosses row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie
    In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
    In Flanders fields.


  4. Concha says:

    Oh Lindy, what a beautiful but sad, sad poem… Yes, the fields of France and Belgium are filled with blood from WWI, not to mention everything that happened in WWII…


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