FEMME ET CHATTE | SHE AND HER CAT |
Paul Verlaine | trans. John R.G. Turner |
Elle jouait avec sa chatte, Et c'était merveille de voir La main blanche et la blanche patte S'ébattre dans l'ombre du soir. Elle cachait - la scélérate! - Sous ses mitaines de fil noir Ses meurtriers ongles d'agate, Coupants et clairs comme un rasoir. L'autre aussi faisait la sucrée Et rentrait sa griffe acérée, Mais le diable n'y perdait rien ... Et dans le boudoir où, sonore, Tintait son rire aérien, Brillaient quatre points de phosphore. |
The girl was playing with her cat: A pure delight it was to view The pale hand and the pale paw pat Each other, where the darkness grew. Her claws in ambush underneath Their velvet mittens gave no hint That possibilities of death Might lurk in digits tipped with flint. Her rival cutely pulls her furs About her fist of nails and purrs At work for idle paws to do. And in the shadows we admire The way the cats’ eyes, two and two, Laugh with a deep reflected fire. |
This translation was "commended" by the judges of the Times Stephen Spender Prize 2005
Trans. copyright © John R.G. Turner 2005