The high poplars make their prayer upright.
And their silver foils are tiny hands,
Who to accompany the speech without formulas,
Join while trembling with soft gestures;
The high poplars make their prayer upright.
Along main road, rivers, channels,
So right in spite of the winds, so powerful and so beautiful!
Like the penitent ones of Seville and Furnes,
It is a long silent procession
Stopped on the edge of forests, the ways,
Or the procession of the giants pilgrims,
Who never arrives at the distance sanctuary,
And which since years makes the same prayer...
Poplars! Poplars of the plains and woods,
Poplars of the channels and the roads in cross,
Arranged immense poplars as batteling,
I found pains exceeding your size,
All along the road where I sought the love!
Do you see me you passing, curving my too heavy face,
Poplars stopped at the edges of main roads ?
Giant proud poplars, poplars pilgrims,
If I never reach the distance sanctuary
That my desire showed full of joy and light...
I want to join the hands, and to sing like you,
Poplars, I will make my prayer, upright!
Guilly d' Herbemont
Poetry having obtained in 1930 the 1st Great
Price
with the floral Plays of France, chaired by
the countess of Noailles and Paul
Faure
