The Awakening, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem : Réveil
I’m back in the bosom of poetry !
Decidedly wealth in the million
Has rejected my fullfilment,
And this’s a sad denouement.
As for me, the chosen proverb to apply :
Water clear and pure and this bitter bread
Never to go without, as with
The gent strumming little tunes on the rebec !
As with me the bed of problems multiply :
The long white nights of darkening dreams,
Just as with me, the eternal hopes
Striding from mornings to evenings !
So’s with me ethics and aesthetics !
I am he on whom poesy laid its indelible stamp
Rhyming staggeringly fantastic lines
In the penumbra of a smoking oil lamp !
I am the soul chosen by God
To keep entranced my contemporaries
Through such rare and fine refrains
Sung on an empty stomach, O ! Serene Heavens !
I’m back in the bosom of poetry.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013