To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine's a Don Quichotte

To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : A Don Quichotte (Poem written in March 1861 that I would Verlaine had dedicated to the Grand Dear Old Man of Letters : Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra - with kind permission, of course, sought by me and which I know he wouldn’t withhold. T. Wignesan) O ! Don Quixote, medieval princely champion, incomparable Bohemian, Only in vain does the absurd and vile crowd laugh at you : You died as a martyr and your life remains a poem, And the windmills wronged you, O ! King true ! Always keep going, keep going, protected by your faith, Astride your fantastic charger that I cannot but love. Sublime gleaner, forward ! – those the law wraps in moth Balls are more numerous, more staggering than bygone days enough. Hurrah ! We follow in your steps, we, the saintly horde of poets Dishevelled, our heads wrapped in verveine tights. Lead us on to assault high-strung fantasies, And soon enough, in spite of every form of treason, Up on high will flap our winged standard of Poesies Over the hoary skull of our inept reason ! © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013