en voyage
Je voulais partager depuis quelque temps la joie de pouvoir tenir dans mes mains un projet réalisé, avec vrai plaisir… Le voilà, un livre magique qui a pu voir le jour grâce au PMA (procréation médicalement assistée) et grâce à Anaïs, son autrice, qui m’a confié les illustrations.
musique Pierre et le Loup de Sergei Prokofiev
Gayly he wandered, the whole day, for he had set out to seek his fortune: if he saw upon the ground a potsherd shining in the sunlight, he took care to pick it up, in the belief that he could change it into a diamond of the first water; if he saw in the distance the cupola of a Mosque sparkling like fire, or the sea glittering like a mirror, he would hasten up, fully persuaded that he had arrived at fairy-land. But ah! these phantoms vanished as he approached, and too soon fatigue, and his stomach gnawed by hunger, convinced him that he was still in the land of mortals.
Wilhelm Hauff
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o’er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
(…) and then an old, old woman came out of the house;
she was leaning upon a big, hooked stick,
and she wore a big sun hat,
which was covered with beautiful painted flowers.
Hans Christian Andersen
–Je vais voir ma mère-grand, et lui porter une galette avec un pot de beurre, que ma mère lui envoie.
–Demeure-t-elle bien loin? lui dit le Loup.
–Oh! oui, lui dit le Petit Chaperon Rouge; c’est par delà. le moulin que vous voyez tout là-bas, là-bas, à la première maison du village.
–Eh bien, dit le Loup, je veux l’aller voir aussi; je m’y en vais par ce chemin-ci et toi par ce chemin-là, et nous verrons à qui plus tôt y sera.
Le Cabinet des Fées
Jean-Paul Sartre
rain
drops
drip
down
all
day
long.
drip down,
slip down,
splashing out their song.
thunder-crashing
splishing
splashing,
slipping,
dripping,
raining down
their rainy
raindrop
song.
Helen H. Moore
I there inquired for a wise and intelligent man, at the same time giving the landlord to understand that I would like to have one tolerably conversant with magic. He conducted me to an unsightly house in a remote street, knocked thereat, and one let me in with the injunction that I should ask only for Muley.
In the house, came to me a little old man with grizzled beard and a long nose, to demand my business. I told him I was in search of the wise Muley (…)
The History of the Spectre Ship
Wilhelm Hauff
“I talked a bit about you, and this girl was standing around listening.
When you said an unattractive Ophelia it clicked somehow. I thought,
“now who does that remind me of?’ And then it came to me: “Of course.
The girl at the party that day.’ I rather think she belonged there (…)”
Third girl, Agatha Christie
Раз Данилушко и спрашивает:
– Ты, бабушка, всякий цветок в наших местах знаешь?
– Хвастаться, – говорит, – не буду, а все будто знаю, какие открытые-то.
– А разве, – спрашивает, – еще не открытые бывают?
– Есть, – отвечает, – и такие. Папору вот слыхал? Она будто цветет на Иванов день. Тот цветок колдовской. Клады им открывают. Для человека вредный. На разрыв-траве цветок – бегучий огонек. Поймай его – и все тебе затворы открыты. Воровской это цветок. А то еще каменный цветок есть. В малахитовой горе будто растет. На змеиный праздник полную силу имеет. Несчастный тот человек, который каменный цветок увидит.
Come, night;—come, Romeo;—come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.—
Come, gentle night;—come, loving, black-brow’d night,
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
William Shakespeare
I’m a high school lover, and you’re my favorite flavor.
Love is all, all my soul.
You’re my Playground Love.
Yet my hands are shaking.
I feel my body remains tense,
No matter, I’m on fire.
On the playground, love.
You’re the piece of gold that flushes all my soul.
Extra time, on the ground.
You’re my Playground Love.
… libero al mare…
As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with
my wooing, and with the
dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keendesire to see Holmes again,
and to know how he was
employing his extraordinary powers.
Arthur Conan Doyle
“Miss de Bellefort.” “Linnet!” “Jackie!” Windlesham stood a little aside,
watching sympathetically as this fiery little creature flung herself
open-armed upon Linnet.
“Lord Windlesham–Miss de Bellefort–my best friend.”
Death on the Nile, Agatha Christie
L‘Air et la Terre avaient une fille : Écho. Cette charmante nymphe vivait dans les bois aux côtés de la déesse Artémis. Elle allait de rivières en torrents ; les arbres lui servaient de toit, la mousse et les jeunes pousses de lit.
Ni phrase ni rire ne sortait plus de sa bouche. Elle répétait seulement les derniers mots qu’elle entendait. Écho était au désespoir. Cette punition était d’autant plus cruelle que notre jolie nymphe tomba éperdument amoureuse…
Yet still he seemed conscious that the willow-tree was stretching its branches over him; in his dreaming state the tree appeared like a strong, old man—the “willow-father” himself, who had taken his tired son up in his arms to carry him back to the land of home, to the garden of his childhood, on the bleak open shores of Kjoge. And then he dreamed that it was really the willow-tree itself from Kjoge, which had travelled out in the world to seek him, and now had found him and carried him back into the little garden on the banks of the streamlet; and there stood Joanna, in all her splendor, with the golden crown on her head, as he had last seen her, to welcome him back.
Hans Christian Andersen
With a quick gesture she fumbled in a little silk bag that lay on the seat.
Then she held out her hand. On the palm of it was a small pearl-handled pistol
a dainty toy it looked.
Agatha Christie
Il y demeurait un vieillard qui portait des culottes de peau et un habit à grands boutons de métal, tout à fait à l’ancienne mode; il avait aussi une perruque, mais une perruque qui paraissait bien être une perruque, et qui ne servait pas à simuler habilement de vrais cheveux. Tous les matins, un vieux domestique venait, nettoyait, faisait le ménage et les commissions, puis s’en allait. Le vieillard à culottes de peau habitait tout seul la vieille maison.
Hans Christian Andersen
clementineTe 
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