From day to day the forest changed appearance. On the summer greenery, autumn spread its rust whitewashes. From the first cold nights, the cattails and poplars had gilded. Then the wild cherries, the beeches, and the maple trees had lit up like torches. The oaks were shaking in the bitter wind with boughs of red leaves.
Les sous-bois avaient perdu leurs dernières fleurettes. Un épais tapis de feuilles mortes recouvrait mousse. Sous la pluie, noircissaient, se décomposaient et se mêlaient peu à peu à l'humus.
Il faisait fois. La pluie oblique tombait du ciel inépuisables. Sur les branches gluantes, l'eau s' assemblait en grosses gouttes qui roulaient comme des larmes.
The undergrowth had lost their last flowers. A thick carpet of dead leaves covered the moss. In the rain, blackened, decomposed and mingled little by little with humus.
It was once. The oblique rain fell from the sky inexhaustible. On the sticky branches, the water came together in big drops that rolled like tears.
D'après E. Pérochon, Le Livre de Quatre-Saisons (Delagrave).
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