My “honey” with chestnuts will not come for Christmas,
It’s life, you have to enjoy yourself anyway
once a year,
New Year’s menu to enjoy at the time you like,
Foie gras with a glass of Monbazillac,
Snails with butter,
Scallop shell with lemon-white butter
Short break
Quail with hot mango
and hazelnut potatoes,
Maybe cheese with the tour des grands ducs (local wine)
Then the dessert
Traditional bûche de Noël
You are all welcome
No need to be a millionaire even at Christmas
Merry Christmas ou Joyeux Noël
Ma « dinde » aux marrons ne sera pas pour Noël,
C’est la vie, il faut se faire plaisir quand même
une fois dans l’année,
menu du réveillon à déguster à l’heure qu’il vous plaît,
Foie gras avec un petit verre de Monbazillac,
Escargots au beurre persillé,
coquille Saint jacques au beurre blanc citronné
Petite pause,
Cailles accompagnés de mangue chaude
et de pommes noisette,
Peut être du fromage avec la tournée des grands ducs ( vin local)
Puis le dessert
Bûche de Noël traditionnelle,
Vous êtes tous invités
Pas besoin d’être millionnaire même à Noël
Joyeux Noël
Miscellaneous
The escargots attack,
They hide their guns
On their spiral shells,
Be careful, Giants.
You think, you think,
But you do nothing,
It’s like watching
A sailboat, set sail
Heading for the moon.
A felucca on the Nile,
A white and round veil,
The soothing under the sun
Won the whole crew.
Around the wet corners of summer
In the alleys of scooter-revving Paris
11 at night
A back light herd of red eyes
Bull-rush Champs-Elysees
Parting for an ambulance
Its siren wobbling like a half-drunk soprano
Sobbing a song
While a man in tuxedo
Is breaking plates on the cobblestone
For our attention to the menu inside
An invitation crushed in a shattered pile
At his heel
“Come come le Monsieur Escargots for Madame!”
We say ok
Which seems to delay further smashing
“Americans” he says under his breath
Smiling
He takes her hand from mine
Leads her over a threshold
Smeared in rain and streetlight Peonies
I am left the choice to follow
My wife
The attention the commotion
“I can see your love is unbreakable.” He winks
Nudging our chairs upstairs to the white-clothed table
A silver carafe of water
Sweating at the center of fine china
I hold her hand
We cut and stab the dinner
While the city outside argues
Through the unlatched wooden shutters
The man
Resuming his lullaby crashing.
SCENT OF MONTREAL
Off the Place d’Armes near the Ruelle
Des Fortifications, is a restaurant small -
Cosy with smell of garlic with all :
Makes me hungry and want to sit a spell.
Every dish is a delight: I love each one so -
Cheesy Onion soup and Vichyssoise;
The omelettes and the souffle a la quebecoise;
Cuisses de grenouilles and escargots.
Sound of caleches across the square
Faint violin music down the street there
This today is la joie de vivre
The city breathes with Frenchness in the air -
Near to heaven-scent it is so rare -
But better if it were le Quebec libre
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .
Written by Sydney Peck
French sonnet form
Entered in Cyndi MacMillan’s Contest UN, DEUX, TROIS....OOH LA LA!!!!
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