One full day, from night to night, in a Welsh village, town and harbour. All Dylan Thomas's art is there everywhere everpresent in those few odd but packed pages. Unforgettable oxymorons : « night's first darkening snow ». Unforseeable metaphors : « his dream buckets down ». Unpredictable similes : « her ears fall off like figs ». A permanent joy, even in the most squalid situations : « and quick as a flash he [Mr Pugh] ducks her [Mrs Pugh] in rat soup ». The permanent music of the language and of innumerable songs : « We are a musical nation ». The simple and healthy desires of man for woman and especially of woman for man : « Tom who is two yards long, Dick who is three feet thick, Harry who is as sweet as a cherry, the good bad boys from the lonely farms, Willy Wee who is six feet deep, and Mr Waldo in Pembroke City, the chimbley sweep, till a kind young woman took pity, come and sweep my chimbley ». Everywhere we are at sea and in the hills enjoying life and its misfits, misdeeds, and misadventures from wave to wood, from beach to bloom and broom, « Let me shipwreck in your thighs ». « Off to Gomorrah » as Jack Black says, « all black like the Ace of Spades ». Dr Jacques COULARDEAU, Paris Universities II and IX.