Lake, shore, mountain and sky seem to merge.
Light on the water gently ripples and plays.
The far mountain is held in dim silhouette.
The sky is soft, a hazy light blue.
A few yachts lie quietly on their moorings.
People stroll unhurriedly with their dogs,
Or sit looking out over the still water.
On the little jetties young boys play,
Peer into the clear water and call "Regarde!"
As the water birds perform spring's eternal rituals.
Behind the lake is a story-book scene.
There is a grand hotel, a row of neat little houses
And in the distance a turreted castle sits,
Imposing and nested on its ancient site.
Behind them the mountains, La Tournette,
Rise steeply in immense craggy bluffs
To their snow clad and cloudy jagged ridges.
This is no idyll, no romanticised water colour.
It is the reality of this day on this lakeshore,
This place of extraordinary beauty and quietness,
Where the world of struggle, lust and power,
Of injustice, envy and strife,
Of hatred, inequality and greed
Seem far, far away, lost
In some incomprehensible alternative universe
And for this moment it is enough to walk in beauty,
To see and know the wonder of the world,
To be part of its immense and complex miracle,
To see, feel, wonder, praise and be at peace.
Yes, it seems to be enough.
It is enough.
It must be enough.
For this moment it is enough.