samedi 27 novembre 2010

29. Aucun homme est une île


Il dort sur le vert chaises de jardin, débranché. Il est entouré par un océan du gravier bruyante, qui est sa protection. Dans une ville très animée, il flotte, tout seul. Est il heureux, je se demande.

* * * * *

He sleeps on the green garden chairs, disconnected. He is surrounded by an ocean of noisy gravel, which is his protection In a very busy city he floats, by himself. Is he happy, I wonder?

3 commentaires:

Paris Paul a dit…

Ah, la belle vie!

"All things French" a dit…

Bonjour Julie ~ you are stretching my french ~ this is good!!
No I think he is just tres fatigue!
xx
Dianne

Virginia a dit…

Of course he's happy. Who wouldn't be? I love the jardins of Paris. When I return home, I savor the white dust in the treads of my shoes. I'm hopeless.
V