It Pitter-Patters Down My Heart
(Another possible translation of Paul Verlaine’s « Il pleure dans mon cœur » by T. Wignesan)
It pitter-patters down my heart
Just as it does over the town.
What’s this languorous thought
Which creeps into my heart ?
Oh ! the gentle tred of the rain
On the ground and on roof-tops !
For a heart which is in chagrin
Oh ! the music that is rain !
It rains without rhyme or cause
In this heart which constricts.
What ! No treacherous force ?
Plunges me in mourning’s remorse.
Well, the worst possible sentence
Is to leave me with not even a clue,
Bereft of love and hate - whence
My heart founders under sentence.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013