Marcel Proust: Paulus Potter

Marcel Proust

(1871-1922)

Paulus Potter

Dark sorrow of the skies, uniform grey,
The rare bright spots, sadder to be blue,
And who leave the frozen plains
Filtering the lukewarm tears of a misunderstood sun;
Potter, melancholy mood of the dark plains
That spread endlessly, without joy and without colour,
The trees, the hamlet, do not shed any shadows,
The little gardens carry no flower.
A labourer returns pulling buckets, and, puny,
His mare resigned, worried and dreaming,
Trained and anxious, his pensive brain,
Short breath of a man, the long breath of wind.

Marcel Proust poetry

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