| ODE À CASSANDRE | TO CASSANDRE |
| Pierre de Ronsard | tr. Stan Solomons |
|
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose Qui ce matin avait déclose Sa robe de pourpre au soleil, A point perdu cette vesprée Les plis de sa robe pourprée, Et son teint au votre pareil. Las! Voyez comme en peu d’espace, Mignonne, elle a dessus la place, Las, las ses beautéz laissé cheoir! O vrayment marastre Nature, Puisqu’une telle fleur ne dure Que du matin jusques au soir! Donc, si vous me croyez, mignonne, Tandis que vostre âge fleuronne En sa plus verte nouveauté, Cueillez, cueillez vostre jeunesse: Comme à ceste fleur, la vieillesse Fera ternir vostre beauté. |
Darling, come see the rose so red, Which this morn timidly had spread Her mantle to the eye of day. Come see if she has lost this e'en Her crimson pleated robe's soft sheen, That same blush which on your cheek plays. See how in but a paltry hour She has let fall her ailing flower. Her beauty lies there in the dust! Alas! How cruel is Mother Nature, Since such a blossom can endure Only from trembling dawn to dusk. Darling you must indeed believe, Whilst innocence within you cleaves The bud and blooms in purity, Garner the gifts of tender youth, For, like this flower, age in sooth Will sadly spoil and tarnish beauty. |
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Trans. Copyright © Stan Solomons 2006