lundi 30 juin 2008

L'église de Spoy et son clocher





L'église de Spoy et ses trois cloches dans un clocher au ras du sol.
Spoy church and its three bells in a bell room difficult to name as a steeple. (clocher)

5 commentaires:

GMG a dit…

Bonjour Daniel!
Intéressante cette église et son clocher... On voit aussi que la promenade sur le Lac d'Orient semble être amusante et finalement le ciel sur le lac Amance est magnifique!
Merci pour les commentaires à Blogtrotter, qui continue à se promener dans les rues de Saint Jacques de Compostelle, maintenant en train de faire la course Paris-Dakar… Bonne semaine!

Bergson a dit…

c'est un clocher à raz de terre.

Je préfère les églises dégagée pour les photos c'est mieux

lyliane a dit…

les poutres qui tiennent les cloches sont bien vermoulues, mais elles risquent de tomber de moins haut, construites comme celà.

Ruth a dit…

I think it must be very old.

And where is the hunchback?

Ruth a dit…

Do you know the Leonard Cohen song, 'Avalanche'? About a hunchback.

Well I stepped into an avalanche,
It covered up my soul;
When I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn, learn to serve me well.

You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold;
He does not ask for your company,
Not at the centre, the centre of the world.

When I am on a pedestal,
You did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare.

You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn what makes me kind;
The crumbs of love that you offer me,
Theyre the crumbs Ive left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
Its just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say youve gone away from me,
But I can feel you when you breathe.

Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
You dont love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure,
It is your turn, beloved,
It is your flesh that I wear.