Photos

Poem of the camargue:
I am ...

I was born in a wild corner
where black bulls are the kings;
and was rocked when I was young
by flamingos excited.

My house was all white,
surrounded by pine trees and rushes;
and the Mistral with branches,
I consisted of beautiful songs.

I was born on this soil dry
where as Attila the sun
made to land miles rides
to smother the alarm clock.

But when the moon appears
and that its clarity innondation
Roubine the marshes and large,
one would think to see the end of the world.

I was born in the vast plains
where the white horses galloping;
off there are camps where dance
gypsies near the carts.

And I followed the farandole
qu'accompagnent the tambourines,
dragged round in this crazy
where each I tended by hand.

Friend request that I will do
praying God to grant
is asleep in this land
in my CAMARGUE where I was born!

Jean-Marc ALLEGRE