Idyll







Spring, messieurs et mesdames, is a most admirable season. In spring the birds sing “tweet-tweet”; the streams sing “zhr-r-r”; and the trees sway this way and that, this way and that, with extraordinary energy—but the poor forest alas!, must stand on its feet all day, and keep growing and blossoming all the time—all the time. Terrible, isn’t it?—


Translated by Joseph Kling (1920)

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