bateaux de papier ... a diary for Elsa: Hundred views of the Leman. Lavaux

mardi 22 novembre 2016

Hundred views of the Leman. Lavaux

Publié par Amélie à 22:43

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Libellés : autumn, fall, leman, switzerland

1 commentaire:

Ana de la Serna23 novembre 2016 à 01:54
So beautiful...
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Amélie: Paris, France

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BATEAUX DE PAPIER... PHOTOGRAPHY

THE ICELAND ALBUM

THE JAPAN ALBUM

THE YELLOWSTONE ALBUM

HUNDRED VIEWS OF LAKE LEMAN

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air albi apple architecture art australia autumn b&w birthday black blogging blue book brittany brown calligraphy canada carnival cat chaumont garden festival childhood christmas clouds colours confinement craft croatia dance denmark dew digital photography dream dusk earth easter eclipse equinoxe everyday experiments fall festival fire fireworks flower friendship frost garden germany glass gold green grey heather home ice iceland intermezzo italy japan jellyfish korea landscape leman light lines lisbonne little things ljubjana memories mirror mist museum music naive days nature new year norway onsen oregon oregon coast painting paris paris'mosque peace photography pink play poetry portrait princesse au petit pois rabbit rain red roses sailing scandinavia seaside sepia sewing shadows sibir silver sky sleep snow snowdrop sologne solstice south spring stones summer sunset sweet switzerland time umbels urban usa venice vézelay volcano voyage washi water weeds white wind window winter wispering hooves wood yellowstone zealandia

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Paper boats. Les bateaux de papier

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream.

In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live.

I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am.

I load my little boats with shiuli flowers from our garden, and hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night.

I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the little clouds setting their white bulging sails.

I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down the air to race with my boats!

When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.

The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading is their baskets full of dreams.

Rabindranath Tagore

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