Paul Verlaine
March 30–This day in history enigmatic and eccentric poet Paul Verlaine is born in 1844.
So, in remembrance of the brilliant bearded Verlaine, we’ve attempted a translation of Verlaine’s Nevermore II.
| Come, my peasant heart. Come, my aged accomplice. Reclaim the fondness of your glory, Broil the rancid incense of your stale and molded flowers, Pour the faulted remnants to the River Gods. Come, my peasant heart. Come my aged accomplice. Sing your hymns to God from the scaffold. Rough organ tones scratch out, “O God!”– Paint over the lines in your face. Shroud yourself in gold; Sing your hymns to God from the scaffold. Sound bells, sound chimes, knell the church bells. Revive the impossible dreams to life. And the happiness now pressed to my breast, now clutched by my hands, that voyager who shuns man’s desperate prayers will Sound bells, sound chimes, knell the church bells. Happiness once walked in stride with me. But damnation spites salvation, and never errs; The worm consumes the fruit, in dreaming & waking; In loving & mourning. It must be. –Happiness once walked in stride with me. NevermoreAllons, mon pauvre coeur, allons, mon vieux complice, Redresse et peins à neuf tous tes arcs triomphaux; Brûle un encens ranci sur tes autels d’or faux; Sème de fleurs les bords béants du précipice; Allons, mon pauvre coeur, allons, mon vieux complice!Pousse à Dieu ton cantique, ô chantre rajeuni; Entonne, orgue enroué, des Te Deum splendides; Vieillard prématuré, mets du fard sur tes rides; Couvre-toi de tapis mordorés, mur jauni; Pousse à Dieu ton cantique, ô chantre rajeuni.Sonnez, grelots; sonnez, clochettes; sonnez, cloches! Car mon rêve impossible a pris corps, et je l’ai Entre mes bras pressé: le Bonheur, cet ailé Voyageur qui de l’Homme évite les approches, –Sonnez, grelots; sonnez, clochettes; sonnez, cloches! Le Bonheur a marché côte à côte avec moi; |
