LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
Up to its very summit near the stars,
A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound
No other tree could live. But gallantly
The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung
In crimson clusters all the boughs among,
Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;
And oft at nights the garden overflows
With one sweet song that seems to have no close,
Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.
Nou pie filao
Kouma’nn serpan zean ki tourn-tourne
Lor tron bos-bos pie plen ar sikatris,
Ki grenpe-monte pou zwenn lesiel tris,
Enn laliann file, anvlop for-sere
Koumadir trangle. Me san kil parad,
Nou pie filao abiy so kadans
Ar zoli fler rouz anpandan lor brans
Kot toutlazourne lavi zame fad;
E souvan aswar enn melodi dous
Anbras nou zarden ar enn zoli kous,
Alim marenwar ar somey kaylous.
When first my casement is wide open thrown
At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;
Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest
A gray baboon sits statue-like alone
Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs
His puny offspring leap about and play;
And far and near kokilas hail the day;
And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;
And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast
By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,
The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.
Gramaten, kouma mo ouver lafnet,
Mo pie filao dir mwa namaste;
Parfwa net lao, sirtou kan fer fre,
Enn zako size, vadire enn pret
Ki priye Sourrya; lor bann brans anba
So bann ti marmay pe fer zot zako;
Partou tann refren bann sante zwazo;
Laba troupo vas pe al manz kasia;
Dan lonbraz epe, lor basen ranpli,
Koste ar vie pie, bote bien garni,
Nenifar gayar larg so fler beni.
