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The frog.
As she picked a fruit from the grass she was digging,
Chloris had just glimpsed the little frog
Who, fearful and fearing for her fate,
suddenly relaxed like a spring,
And, quickly, spreading and bringing the legs together,
Jumped into the strawberries, and, among the tomatoes,
Hurry towards the pond, where, smelling the danger,
His sisters, one after the other, in haste plunged.
Ten times already Chloris, on an animated hunt, took
her under his suddenly closed hand;
but, more skillful than her, and faster, ten times
The little frog slipped in her fingers.
Chloris finally holds it; Chloris sings victory!
Chloris in the blue eyes of his mother is the glory.
Her beauty laughs in heaven; under her broad hat
Her blond hair flowing like a double stream
Cover the roses on her cheek with a golden veil;
And the brightest smile on her lips is played.
Curious, she observes and is not without emotion
At the strange contact of the living and cold body.
The little frog trembles as she looks at her,
And Chloris whose hand slowly ventures
A pity to feel, panicked by fear,
So strong between her fingers beat the little heart.
Albert Samain.
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