poésie, Brexit, télécommunication   Beneath the apple blossoms I go a wintry way, For love that smiled in AprilIs false to me in May. Sara Teasdale, May While from the purpling east departsThe star that led the dawn,Blithe Flora from her couch upstarts,For May is on the lawn.A quickening hope, a freshening glee,Foreran the expected Power,Whose […]