Contrerime VIII

This one was missing from the sequence as I was never happy with the translation. I'm still not entirely satisfied, but I am posting it nevertheless.
There is a poem by Louis MacNeice called Sunday Morning that contains the lines: Down the road someone is practising scales/The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tail...

Dans le silencieux automne

   D' un jour mol et soyeux,

Je t' écoute en fermant les yeux,

   Voisine monotone.

Ces gammes de tes doigts hardis,

   C' était déjà des gammes

Quand n' étaient pas encor des dames

   Mes cousines, jadis ;

Et qu' aux toits noirs de la Rafette,

   Où grince un fer changeant,

Les abeilles d' or et d' argent

   Mettaient l' aurore en fête.

Translation

In the silent autumn

Of a soft and silky day,

Eyes closed, I hear you play

A monotonous run.

You rehearse with quick fingers

The scales that my cousins

Would perform by the dozen -

The memory lingers.

On the black roofs of La Rafette

where the weathervane squeals

the gold and silver bees

put the dawn en fête