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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534011" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Letter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You can see it already: chalks and ochers; <br>Country crossed with a thousand furrow-lines;<br>Ground-level rooftops hidden by the shrubbery; <br>Sporadic haystacks standing on the grass;<br>Smoky old rooftops tarnishing the landscape; <br>A river (not Cayster or Ganges, though:<br>A feeble Norman salt-infested watercourse); <br>On the right, to the north, bizarre terrain<br>All angular--you'd think a shovel did it. <br>So that's the foreground. An old chapel adds<br>Its antique spire, and gathers alongside it <br>A few gnarled elms with grumpy silhouettes;<br>Seemingly tired of all the frisky breezes, <br>They carp at every gust that stirs them up.<br>At one side of my house a big wheelbarrow <br>Is rusting; and before me lies the vast<br>Horizon, all its notches filled with ocean blue; <br>Cocks and hens spread their gildings, and converse<br>Beneath my window; and the rooftop attics, <br>Now and then, toss me songs in dialect.<br>In my lane dwells a patriarchal rope-maker; <br>The old man makes his wheel run loud, and goes<br>Retrograde, hemp wreathed tightly round the midriff. <br>I like these waters where the wild gale scuds;<br>All day the country tempts me to go strolling; <br>The little village urchins, book in hand,<br>Envy me, at the schoolmaster's (my lodging), <br>As a big schoolboy sneaking a day off.<br>The air is pure, the sky smiles; there's a constant <br>Soft noise of children spelling things aloud.<br>The waters flow; a linnet flies; and I say: &quot;Thank you! <br>Thank you, Almighty God!&quot;--So, then, I live:<br>Peacefully, hour by hour, with little fuss, I shed <br>My days, and think of you, my lady fair!<br>I hear the children chattering; and I see, at times, <br>Sailing across the high seas in its pride,<br>Over the gables of the tranquil village, <br>Some winged ship which is traveling far away,<br>Flying across the ocean, hounded by all the winds. <br>Lately it slept in port beside the quay.<br>Nothing has kept it from the jealous sea-surge:<br>No tears of relatives, nor fears of wives, <br>Nor reefs dimly reflected in the waters,<br>Nor importunity of sinister birds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+Hugo">Victor Hugo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534011" data-title="Letter de Victor Hugo" data-description="You can see it already: chalks and ochers; 
Country crossed with a thousand furrow-lines;
Ground-level rooftops hidden by the shrubbery; 
Sporadic haystacks standing on the grass;
Smoky old rooftops tarnishing the landscape; 
A river (not Cayster ..."></div>
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