Lament, Translation of Paul Verlaine's Poem: Lamento

Lament, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s poem : Lamento Ma mie est morte. Plourez mes yeux. (from an old poet of the fourteenth century whose name escapes me. Paul Verlaine) The town hoists its high roofs Of a thousand zig-zagging hoods. A sound of joyous bubbly words Rises up to the heavens, reassuring voice. ____What this vile gaiety does to me This gaiety of the city ! What vastness of peace reigns over the land ! The bird sings within a great oak tree, Midday renders the plains all shiny That turn golden at the setting of the sun. ----Little does it irk me your glory pure O ! Nature ! With the signals of her waves With her solemn moan, Call to us the vast ocean : All of us, dreamers and sailors. ----What do you want again of me Sonorous sea ? ----Ah ! Neither the waves of the Oceans, Nor the countrysides and their shadows, Nor the cities of ceaseless noises That giants raised over lands, Nothing will bring to life my beloved lover O ! So long in deep slumber. © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013