The Rain
"The fine rain has wetted everything, very gently and in silence. It keeps raining. I will walk beneath the trees, barefoot, so as not to dirty my shoes.
Alas! How many flowers on the ground! Have pity on the fallen flowers. We must not sweep them away with the mud. Let us leave them for the bees.
Scarab beetles and slugs cross the path between the puddles. I do not want to step on them, nor frighten the lizard, who stretches out, blinking its eyes.
Delightful is the rain in spring. The branches heavy with wet flowers have an intoxicating perfume. The delicate skin of the tree trunks shines in the sun.