CORS DE CHASSE HUNTING HORNS
Guillaume Apollinaire trans. Oliver Bernard
Notre histoire est noble et tragique
Comme le masque d'un tyran
Nul drame hasardeux ou magique
Aucun détail indifférent
Ne rend notre amour pathétique

Et Thomas de Quincey buvant
L'opium poison doux et chaste
À sa pauvre Anne allait rêvant
Passons passons puisque tout passe
Je me retournerai souvent

Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent
Our past is as noble and as tragic
As the mask of a tyrant
No tale of danger or of magic
Nothing so insignificant
Describes the pathos of our love

And Thomas de Quincey drinking his
Sweet and chaste and poisoned glass
Dreaming went to see his Ann
Let us since all passes pass
I shall look back only too often

Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies among the wind

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Trans. copyright © Oliver Bernard 1965, 1986, 2004 - publ. Anvil Press



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