Away From The City

It's early in November and I've been outside all day

Walking through the hills and the valleys

The Romans knew this place and the Huns who laid it waste

Only add the thrill of history to beauty

You all will have your favourite place and mostly it's called home

Home, they say, is where the heart is

My heart is moving through this sun-rich land

Delighting in a bright, coloured calmness

Away from the city to the small towns

Six days are sleepy, then the market day comes

Et tout le monde is underway, exchanging their wares

And should there come the singers then also take care

The fruits are nearly gathered, the vineyards have turned red

Now is the time for the olives

Taken by hand from the young trees

Once painted by Van Gogh in his madness

The tourists have all gone back home, for me it's time as well

Home, they say, is where the heart is

The mistral knows this place and winter emptiness

Consolation, maybe, for this parting