And of course...

... the reason why a couple of the recent pomes were in French was the strange desire that came over me while we were down on the Loire to start reading French poetry.  And I just happened to have a book with me (an historical anthology of French poems). 

However there was the immense barrier of my poor French to overcome (a weak 'O' level long  ago). 

So I had ...  to ... translate ... every ... word ... with ... a ... dictionary ... in ... my ... hand.  And then try to work out the colloquial meaning.  I'm sure it was good for me.  And it doubtless explains oddities in some of the translations this month.

Poem of the Week

Rondel: Le temps a laissé son manteau
Charles d'Orleans

Le temps a laissé son manteau.
De vent, de froidure et de pluie,
Et s’est vêtu de broderie,
De soleil luisant, clair et beau.

Il n’y a bête, ni oiseau
Qu’en son jargon ne chante ou crie :
Le temps a laissé son manteau.

Rivière, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent en livrée jolie,
Gouttes d’argent d’orfèvrerie,
Chacun s’habille de nouveau :
Le temps a laissé son manteau.

(Broad English translation (mine, so probably error-prone):

The season has removed his coat
Of wind, cold and rain,
And put on embroidery,
Of gleaming sunshine, bright and beautiful.

There is neither animal nor bird
That doesn’t call or cry in its own tongue:
The season has removed his coat.

Rivers, fountains and brooks
Wear, as handsome garments,
Silver gouts of goldsmith’s work;
Everyone puts on new clothing:
The season has removed his coat.)