Beneath Vézelay's sky, where raindrops gently fall, Autumn's hues blend, a tapestry for all, Fields soaked in history, where pilgrims trod, Their faith unyielding, guided by a higher God. Amidst the mist, echoes of Bernard's call, His words, a beacon, inspiring one and all, To the Second Crusade, with fervor and zeal, Their hearts ablaze, with a righteous appeal. Through rain-soaked paths, pilgrims journey on, Their souls alight, beneath a gray horizon, For Vézelay's walls hold tales untold, Of faith, of courage, of dreams enfold. In the quiet rain, whispers of the past, Remind us of struggles, of faith that lasts, Oh, Vézelay, in autumn's gentle sway, Your rural landscape echoes history's fray.
Discovering Europe's narratives through the lens of history, places and people
