Blackcurrant River

Blackcurrant river rolls unknown in strange valleys;

the voices of a hundred rooks go with it,

the true benevolent voice of angles:

with the wide movements of the fir woods

when several winds sweep down.

Everything flows with [the] horrible mysteries of ancient landscapes;

of strongholds visited, of large estates:

it is along these banks that you can hear

the dead passions of errant knights:

but how the wind is wholesome!

Let the traveler look through these clerestories:

he will journey on more bravely.

Forest soldiers whom the Lord sends,

dear delightful rooks! Drive away from here the crafty peasant,

clinking glasses with his old stump of an arm.