IL PLEURE ... THE CRY IN MY HEART
Paul Verlaine trans. Thomas D.Le

Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville,
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon coeur?

Ô bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits!
Pour un coeur qui s'ennuie
Ô le chant de la pluie.

Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur que s'écoeure.
Quoi! Nulle trahison?...
Ce deuil est sans raison.

C'est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi,
Sans amour et sans haine,
Mon coeur a tant de peine!

The cry that's in my heart is like
The rain that pours onto the town.
What is this languor sad to strike
And weigh my heavy heart low down?

O rain whose sound that is so sweet
Upon the roofs and on the grounds!
It fills my heart with grief replete.
O rain whose song that so resounds!

For no known reason it cries so
In my sad heart filled with distress.
What, no real treason can I know?
This mournful mood is meaningless.

What can be worse than this deep pain
That kills, and yet I know not why.
No love nor hate, only this bane
That wounds my heart and lets it cry.

Click here 6 for another translation of this poem.

Trans. Copyright © Thomas D.Le 2002


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