Written Pyrenees.
You will be surprised, my dear friend, to receive a letter from me, dated waters of Saint-Sauveur: I seemed condemned to the more you write that the banks of Cocytus. The last lines I dictated to you before I left, you announced that I was dying: you can judge for this long letter, drawn entirely from my hand, I'm more than half raised. What do I attribute the honor of this kind of healing? Is it nature or air change, dissipation and approval of the trip? I do not know. All I know positively is that it is not my doctor.
You have heard so much of the Pyrenees, I will not attempt to describe here. I would also paint you embarrassed astonishment, horror and admiration that I have received in their approach. This long mountain remotely resembling a vast mass of bluish clouds, oddly grouped on the horizon. From Lourdes to Saint-Sauveur, you constantly climb a rock-hewn way, and you see constantly, two or three hundred feet below you, sometimes right, sometimes left, a torrent which seems to have employed thousands of centuries to make its way through the masses of granite, whose horrible noise you still announces its presence, when your eye can not follow him to the precipice. Leaving the throat Pierrefitte, we finally discovered the small and cool valley of Luz. Saint-Sauveur is at. It sits on the rump of a very steep mountain, but in a pleasant and picturesque position. Gave the flows at the foot. Between Gave and mountain extend some green carpet lined ash and lime. There are few houses in Saint-Sauveur, and they are only one street, but they are very convenient and pleasant. The baths in the middle.
In a dark vault
Pendent and shining pearl yellowish and hard salt
Veins of a rock, covered with an old wall
Escapes boil a sulphurous wave
Which fall within the marble or stone hollow
Y files a soft silt, soap and pure.
Standing at dawn morning,
This is a thermometer in hand,
Any patient in gaiter in sandal
Closely mule in brodequin,
Priest, a Jewish actress, or vestal
Or monk, or policeman, or robin,
Court will sing of mineral water,
Cook and heat bath.
The wave smoke: it invokes all
This power so hidden that reveres these places.
The Nymph hears, and the aurel trembling,
Suddenly leaning his urn, she offers them.
Its not work the Jewel,
Girl and mother of Health;
Hope misleading at his side
Smiled maliciously, leaks and keeps coming.
It dispels sadness,
Exercises in the fun, soft idleness;
Makes a spring day in the cold age,
And its first glow to the complexion of beauty.
Pale and weak youth
He has a new heart and new desires;
Finally it cures ailments of all kinds
The only charm of pleasure.
I taste the most readily, and which accords best with my diet, exercise is the horse. Men and women, we train twice a day squadron, and we gallop wherever he can gallop on horses in the country, very small and very thin, but the only ones who stand up in these mountainous roads and spiky pebbles. We still find time to walk, and you know how much I like this exercise. I remember with delight the walks we have done so often together in the drilling of Saint-Germain, in the woods of Marly, and on the heights of wood Satory. The woods offered us so easily soft solitude. I am forced to look for here on the mountain tops. But what lovely show! I see my feet surrounded their cloud sides, while their tops and I have enlightened sunlight. There, all pleces trial under the eyes, I try to decide the famous and useless question of training, age and change the world, and soon I realized that nature has made me rather to enjoy all that I see, that to guess how everything I see there. I then go down by very difficult paths: I win the shade of shrubs, and, sitting on the banks of this river, the noise, similar to the sea, we stuns night and day, I indulge in the sweetest melancholy . The water leak tells me that time. I think of all the losses that I have made in such a early age. Alas! I saw away the kindest and most beloved objects. My soul by degrees is penetrated with grief. I soon found myself flooded with tears, and I repeat to you from my heart that I say rarely, because I'm afraid you grieve. "O my friend, may I never see you survive!"
But my sweet dream
What sound comes suddenly snatch me?
A time to mourn can not we hide?
Slopes of hills in my name sounds, they cry:
I get up, and already loves all armed
Long and sharp knives in the spine locked,
Took to the prairie.
We run to the next village
Eating mountainous strawberry
Honey, butter, a sweet grape
And the bushy bramble
Along the way, the mad swarm
Picked off without design or
That a mature complexion mouth
And on the finger that touches
Leaves the impression of theft.
We charge a low cost pocket
The richest productions;
And we made collections
Marble, rock crystal,
Beautiful pebbles which nothing approach
Plants and butterflies.
You will be surprised, my dear friend, to receive a letter from me, dated waters of Saint-Sauveur: I seemed condemned to the more you write that the banks of Cocytus. The last lines I dictated to you before I left, you announced that I was dying: you can judge for this long letter, drawn entirely from my hand, I'm more than half raised. What do I attribute the honor of this kind of healing? Is it nature or air change, dissipation and approval of the trip? I do not know. All I know positively is that it is not my doctor.
You have heard so much of the Pyrenees, I will not attempt to describe here. I would also paint you embarrassed astonishment, horror and admiration that I have received in their approach. This long mountain remotely resembling a vast mass of bluish clouds, oddly grouped on the horizon. From Lourdes to Saint-Sauveur, you constantly climb a rock-hewn way, and you see constantly, two or three hundred feet below you, sometimes right, sometimes left, a torrent which seems to have employed thousands of centuries to make its way through the masses of granite, whose horrible noise you still announces its presence, when your eye can not follow him to the precipice. Leaving the throat Pierrefitte, we finally discovered the small and cool valley of Luz. Saint-Sauveur is at. It sits on the rump of a very steep mountain, but in a pleasant and picturesque position. Gave the flows at the foot. Between Gave and mountain extend some green carpet lined ash and lime. There are few houses in Saint-Sauveur, and they are only one street, but they are very convenient and pleasant. The baths in the middle.
In a dark vault
Pendent and shining pearl yellowish and hard salt
Veins of a rock, covered with an old wall
Escapes boil a sulphurous wave
Which fall within the marble or stone hollow
Y files a soft silt, soap and pure.
Standing at dawn morning,
This is a thermometer in hand,
Any patient in gaiter in sandal
Closely mule in brodequin,
Priest, a Jewish actress, or vestal
Or monk, or policeman, or robin,
Court will sing of mineral water,
Cook and heat bath.
The wave smoke: it invokes all
This power so hidden that reveres these places.
The Nymph hears, and the aurel trembling,
Suddenly leaning his urn, she offers them.
Its not work the Jewel,
Girl and mother of Health;
Hope misleading at his side
Smiled maliciously, leaks and keeps coming.
It dispels sadness,
Exercises in the fun, soft idleness;
Makes a spring day in the cold age,
And its first glow to the complexion of beauty.
Pale and weak youth
He has a new heart and new desires;
Finally it cures ailments of all kinds
The only charm of pleasure.
I taste the most readily, and which accords best with my diet, exercise is the horse. Men and women, we train twice a day squadron, and we gallop wherever he can gallop on horses in the country, very small and very thin, but the only ones who stand up in these mountainous roads and spiky pebbles. We still find time to walk, and you know how much I like this exercise. I remember with delight the walks we have done so often together in the drilling of Saint-Germain, in the woods of Marly, and on the heights of wood Satory. The woods offered us so easily soft solitude. I am forced to look for here on the mountain tops. But what lovely show! I see my feet surrounded their cloud sides, while their tops and I have enlightened sunlight. There, all pleces trial under the eyes, I try to decide the famous and useless question of training, age and change the world, and soon I realized that nature has made me rather to enjoy all that I see, that to guess how everything I see there. I then go down by very difficult paths: I win the shade of shrubs, and, sitting on the banks of this river, the noise, similar to the sea, we stuns night and day, I indulge in the sweetest melancholy . The water leak tells me that time. I think of all the losses that I have made in such a early age. Alas! I saw away the kindest and most beloved objects. My soul by degrees is penetrated with grief. I soon found myself flooded with tears, and I repeat to you from my heart that I say rarely, because I'm afraid you grieve. "O my friend, may I never see you survive!"
But my sweet dream
What sound comes suddenly snatch me?
A time to mourn can not we hide?
Slopes of hills in my name sounds, they cry:
I get up, and already loves all armed
Long and sharp knives in the spine locked,
Took to the prairie.
We run to the next village
Eating mountainous strawberry
Honey, butter, a sweet grape
And the bushy bramble
Along the way, the mad swarm
Picked off without design or
That a mature complexion mouth
And on the finger that touches
Leaves the impression of theft.
We charge a low cost pocket
The richest productions;
And we made collections
Marble, rock crystal,
Beautiful pebbles which nothing approach
Plants and butterflies.