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Victor HUGO ! (1802-1885) Seeding
 
 season. Evening
 
 is the twilight moment.
 I admire, sitting under a gate,
 This remnant of daylight illuminated
 by the last hour of work.
 
 In the land, at night bathed,
 I contemplate, moved, the rags
 of an old man who throws
 the future harvest to the furrows.
 
 Its high black silhouette
 dominates deep ploughing.
 We can feel how much he must believe
 in the useful escape of days.
 
 He walks in the immense plain,
 Goes, comes, throws the seed far away,
 Reopens his hand, and starts again,
 And I meditate, obscure witness,
 
 While, unfolding his veils,
 The shadow, where a rumor mingle,
 Seems to widen to the stars
 The august gesture of the sower.
 
 
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