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Best Famous Paul Verlaine Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Paul Verlaine poems. This is a select list of the best famous Paul Verlaine poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Paul Verlaine poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Paul Verlaine poems.

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Written by Paul Verlaine |

Autumn Song

With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and montonous
Choking and pale When i mind the tale the hours keep, my memory strays down other days and I weep; and I let me go where ill winds blow now here, now there, harried and sped, even as a dead leaf, anywhere.

Written by Paul Verlaine |


I am the Empire in the last of its decline, 
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,--the while 
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style 
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
The solitary soul is heart-sick with a vile Ennui.
Down yon, they say, War's torches bloody shine.
Alas, to be so faint of will, one must resign The chance of brave adventure in the splendid file,- Of death, perchance! Alas, so lagging in desire! Ah, all is drunk! Bathyllus, has done laughing, pray? Ah, all is drunk,--all eaten! Nothing more to say! Alone, a vapid verse one tosses in the fire; Alone, a somewhat thievish slave neglecting one; Alone, a vague disgust of all beneath the sun!

Written by Robert William Service |

Gods In The Gutter

 I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who in a cafe sat,
And one was small and crapulous, and one was large and fat;
And one was eaten up with vice and verminous at that.
The first he spoke of secret sins, and gems and perfumes rare; And velvet cats and courtesans voluptuously fair: "Who is the Sybarite?" I asked.
They answered: "Baudelaire.
" The second talked in tapestries, by fantasy beguiled; As frail as bubbles, hard as gems, his pageantries he piled; "This Lord of Language, who is he?" They whispered "Oscar Wilde.
" The third was staring at his glass from out abysmal pain; With tears his eyes were bitten in beneath his bulbous brain.
"Who is the sodden wretch?" I said.
They told me: "Paul Verlaine.
" Oh, Wilde, Verlaine and Baudelaire, their lips were wet with wine; Oh poseur, pimp and libertine! Oh cynic, sot and swine! Oh votaries of velvet vice! .
Oh gods of light divine! Oh Baudelaire, Verlaine and Wilde, they knew the sinks of shame; Their sun-aspiring wings they scorched at passion's altar flame; Yet lo! enthroned, enskied they stand, Immortal Sons of Fame.
I dreamed I saw three demi-gods who walked with feet of clay, With cruel crosses on their backs, along a miry way; Who climbed and climbed the bitter steep to which men turn and pray.

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Ballade: In Favour Of Those Called Decadents And Symbolists Translation of Paul Verlaines Poem: Ballade

for Léon Vanier*

(The texts I use for my translations are from: Yves-Alain Favre, Ed.
Paul Verlaine: Œuvres Poétiques Complètes.
Paris: Robert Laffont,1992, XCIX-939p.
) Some few in all this Paris: We live off pride, yet flat broke we’re Even if with the bottle a bit too free We drink above all fresh water Being very sparing when taken with hunger.
With other fine fare and wines of high-estate Likewise with beauty: sour-tempered never.
We are the writers of good taste.
Phoebé when all the cats gray be Highly sharpened to a point much harsher Our bodies nourrished by glory Hell licks its lips and in ambush does cower And with his dart Phoebus pierces us ever The night cradling us through dreamy waste Strewn with seeds of peach beds over.
We are the writers of good taste.
A good many of the best minds rally Holding high Man’s standard: toffee-nosed scoffer And Lemerre* retains with success poetry’s destiny.
More than one poet then helter-skelter Sought to join the rest through the narrow fissure; But Vanier at the very end made haste The only lucky one to assume the rôle of Fisher*.
We are the writers of good taste.
ENVOI Even if our stock exchange tends to dither Princes hold sway: gentle folk and the divining caste.
Whatever one might say or pours forth the preacher, We are the writers of good taste.
*One of Verlaine’s publishers who first published his near-collected works at 19, quai Saint-Michel, Paris-V.
* Alphonse Lemerre (1838-1912) , one of Verlaine’s publishers at 47, Passage Choiseul, Paris, where from 1866 onwards the Parnassians met regularly.
*Vanier first specialised in articles for fishing as a sport.
© T.
Wignesan – Paris,2013

Written by Paul Verlaine |

The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

 High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon.
We liked that foolishness.
Also, at times a jealous insect's dart Bothered out beauties.
Suddenly a white Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart.
Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling, The women who hung dreaming on our arms Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.