It was while going the 'Méséglise way' that I first noticed the circular shadow which apple-trees cast upon the sunlit ground, and also those impalpable threads of golden silk which the setting sun weaves slantingly downwards from beneath their leaves, and which I would see my father slash through with his stick without ever making them swerve from their straight path.
Méséglise alderakoan erreparatua natzaio ni estreinakoz sagarrondoek lur eguzkitsuaren gainean eratzen duten itzal biribilari, baita argi ilunabartarrak hostoen pean zeiharka iruten dituen urre ukiezinezko zeta-oihal haiek hauteman ere, aitak beren kokagunetik inoiz aiena ezin zitzakeenak bere bidazti-makilaz etengabe eten arren.