Now is the time of the year when frogs make their way up the hill to my garden and the pond where they have spawned for years. Here is a poem that suggests the discipline that must guide them into their annual ritual. I wrote it in French ... well, because I could and because of our English way of associating the French with frogs. It was set to music by Dominic Sewell and performed in St Cyprian's Church, London by the Japanese soprano, Akiko Enomoto. I have included a line-by-line translation into English.
L’Idylle Mouillée
The Wet Affair
La nuit est noire,
The night is black,
L’atmosphere est mouillée.
The atmosphere is wet.
Plus que mouillée, c’est trempée.
More than wet, it is soaking.
Il pleut.
It's raining.
Dans la noirceur
In the blackness
Et dans la pluie
And in the rain
Les grenouilles sont rassemblées.
The frogs are gathered.
Elles attendent le moment,
They await the moment,
L’instant,
The instant.
Le mot ‘Avancez!’.
The word 'Forward'!
Elles l’écoutent et elles avancent.
They hear it and they advance.
Une par une,
One by one,
Males et femelles.
Males and females.
Chacune solitaire.
Each one alone.
Elles marchent lentement.
They march slowly.
Grosses et grasses.
Big and fat.
Au lac et sa profondeur.
To the lake and its depths
Là, elles plongent
There, they dive
Et elles attendent leurs amours pour la nuit,
And they await their lovers for the night,
Le jour prochain, la semaine, peut-être,
For the next day, the week perhaps,
Mais pas pour la vie.
But not for life.
Ce sera une idylle de saison.
This will be a holiday romance.
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