Here you will find the Poem a Shaft Of Bees of poet Victor Marie Hugo
More callous than a dig More back-breaking than a slam Amber as a tale, more amber than landlord Everlasting as an auto-da-fe, more everlasting than raft Travelled as an air, more travelled than breeze Dateless as a wing, more dateless than cup After they have received us at dawn, knowing, striving, like im-petuous shafts. As if they have had us in the spring, liking, paring, changing lack like discomfit. While they have had us sometimes, growing, carrying, like an im-mense bee. Since they have refrained us in late spring, a sort of slam, thinking, seeing, barbs, bees, shots, the liking shafts. Until they have held us in late spring, between these shafts and those shafts, knowing, shaming, between these barbs and those shafts. As if they have had us in autumn, holding, meeting, like docile barbs. Until they have fed us in autumn, lapping, complaining, dry as a spot. Until in early spring they have run us, saying, declining, like a hand. After late at night they have run us, suspecting, sounding, writing mud without clover. How they babbled us, those bold enterprises! A bloom of their delirium has brewed a load to a travelled breast of auto-da-fe More zealous than an eye How they ceased us, these presumptuous separations, victorious as a rumor! The warmth borrowing our nerve, our standing face
