To a woman
(In this traslation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : « A une femme »,
I have retained the rhyme scheme to the letter, I hope. T. Wignesan)
To you these lines in faith must console I address :
A sweet dream laughs and cries in your large eyes through
The purity of your soul which is wholly good, to you
These lines from the depths of my turbulent distress.
Just that, Alas ! the nightmare which haunts me hideous
Allows no respite and furious, mad and jealous continue
Multiplying themselves like wolves in a funeral retinue
Hanging on to my fate which at their mercy they harrass !
Oh ! how I suffer, I suffer hopelessly, so mean
That the initial whimperings of the first man
Banished from Eden a mere eclogue to the cost I wean. !
And the minor discomforts you may endure in comparison
Are like the swallows in the sky on an afternoon
- My Dear – make the beautiful warm September day a boon !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013