Tomorrow, At Dawn- Demain, Des L'Aube

French Version - Demain, dès l'aube by Victor Hugo Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends. J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne. Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps. Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées, Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit, Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées, Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit. Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe, Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur, Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur. Translation to English- Tomorrow, at Dawn- by Victor Hugo Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, I will depart. You see, I know you wait for me. I will go through the forest and over the mountains. I cannot stay far from you any longer. I will trudge on, my eyes fixed on my thoughts, Ignoring everything around me, without hearing a sound, Alone, unknown, back stooped, hands crossed, Saddened, and the day will be like night for me. I will neither see the golden glow of the falling evening, Nor the sails going down to Harfleur in the distance, And when I arrive, I will place on your tomb A bouquet of green holly and flowering heather. Inspired me to write -Wilted, Are My Flowers I open the ornate gate of the cemetery that creaks and moans, the path I follow is old and worn, trees ancient and beautiful sway, and birds sing a thousand songs but my head is low in grief, oh, it took me all day to arrive and my flowers are now wilted. I take the path that leads me to my beloved's as the sun falls, the cemetery is all peace and quiet and my heart is heavy, I remember every detail of every death like it was yesterday, and since then my days sometimes are dark as night. The dusk is lovely and the sunset painted by God himself, but I see none of this as I stand weeping at the family tomb, lost in my reverie of memories and my forever sorrow, finally, I place my wilted roses down and turn away. _____________________ November 8, 2021 Poetry/Verse/Wilted, Are My Flowers Copyright Protected, ID 11-1405-332-08 All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France French Poet Victor Hugo, 1857 from his series, Les Contemplations, his poem, Demain, les l'auble Translation - Wikipedia Written for the Standard contest, Inspired by a Translation sponsor, Malabika Ray Choudhury, Judged 12/12/2021 First Place