| LA LUNE BLANCHE | WHITE MOON |
| Paul Verlaine | trans. G.M.Keyes |
|
La lune blanche Luit dans les bois; De chaque branche Part une voix Sous la ramée ... Ô bien aimée. L’étang reflète, Profond miroir La silhouette Du saule noir Où le vent pleure ... Rêvons, c’est l’heure. Un vaste et tendre Apaisement Semble descendre Du firmament Que l’astre irise ,,, C’est l’heure exquise. |
White, the moon shines at will, Hidden woods aglow, The leaves so still Whispering low, Lacy above ... My dearest love. The pool is a glass, So much it shows As reflections pass. Dark the willows Where the wind grieves, numb ... Dream, the hour has come, See, everywhere, As soft as a sigh, Peace drifts down the air, Iridescent the sky By the stars set alight ,,, The hour is at its height. |
Click here 2 for another translation of this poem.
Trans. Copyright © G.M.Keyes 2006