Art and Poetry - Monet and Coppée

A dream of happiness that often accompanies me,

It is to have a home overlooking the countryside,

Close roofs, at the very end of the extended suburb,

Where I would live like a regular worker.

This, it seems to me, is where a good book would be made.

In winter, the horizon of hillsides white with frost;

In summer, the big sky and the air that smells of woods;

And the rare friends, who would sometimes come

To see me, from very far away, could recognize me,

Playing the flageolet, sitting at my window.