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JEAN
BÉZANAIRE
From the time of
his youth, we know very little,
That he used all
his strength to harvest his own land,
Skilled at
numerous trades working with his bare hand,
His childhood
passed by as a flower so brittle.
One day shearing
his sheep, the other sowing seeds,
His mornings
filled with hope, bursts of expectation,
Tomorrows full of
loss and dreams of deception,
The existence of
Jean failed to fulfill his needs.
At the dawn of
his youth, his destiny stood still
When he promised
his fate to the call of his King.
He looked into
the sky and saw a smile mocking
As he pledged his
future to the faith of God's will.
At last his
horizon opened to adventure,
In an immense new
world beyond an obscure sea.
From his sad
tangled web, Jean was finally free
To explore the
unknown rekindling his ardour.
As we search for
in vain proof of hostility
Either as a
farmer, or as a plain soldier
Jean
Bézanaire remained an honourable worker.
In his
distinguished heart, he kept his dignity.
His name has been
confined to untold history.
Even in the
defeat that his people still mourn
He decided to
stay even though he felt torn
And Besner
Prêt-à-Boire left a great legacy.
Georges Brunet (1931-) s/o
Bruno Brunet & Calixta Besner, Laval (Québec)
June 2002; english version by his daughter in law Jennifer
Pacheco, September 2002
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