Your Egypt

[alna]

This poem came back to my mind this week reading a blog. I learned it at school: we used to recite it for Armistice Day… It was written a long time ago during a war, but it is still true...


Le dormeur du val (Arthur Rimbaud)

C’est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière
Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons
D’argent; où le soleil de la montagne fière,
Luit; C’est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.

Un soldat jeune bouche ouverte, tête nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est étendu dans l’herbe, sous la nue,
Pale dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut.

Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant comme
Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme:
Nature, berce-le chaudement: il a froid.

Les parfums ne font plus frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au coté droit



Here’s an English translation

The Sleeper in the Valley

There’s a recess in the greenery, where the river sings
Tangling wildly in the tattered grass
Silvery; where the sun from the proud mountain
Glimmers; It’s a little valley that sparkles with light.

A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
And nape bathing in the cool blue cresses
Sleeping; he’s spread out on the grass, under the clouds,
Pale on his green bed where the light rains down.

Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling like
A sick child would smile, he dozes.
Warmly lull him Nature, he’s cold.

The scents no longer make his nose quiver
He sleeps in the sun, hand on his chest
Tranquil, he has two red holes on his right side

[Winky]

alna wrote: This poem came back to my mind this week reading a blog. I learned it at school: we used to recite it for Armistice Day… It was written a long time ago during a war, but it is still true...


Le dormeur du val (Arthur Rimbaud)

C’est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière
Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons
D’argent; où le soleil de la montagne fière,
Luit; C’est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.

Un soldat jeune bouche ouverte, tête nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est étendu dans l’herbe, sous la nue,
Pale dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut.

Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant comme
Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme:
Nature, berce-le chaudement: il a froid.

Les parfums ne font plus frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au coté droit



Here’s an English translation

The Sleeper in the Valley

There’s a recess in the greenery, where the river sings
Tangling wildly in the tattered grass
Silvery; where the sun from the proud mountain
Glimmers; It’s a little valley that sparkles with light.

A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
And nape bathing in the cool blue cresses
Sleeping; he’s spread out on the grass, under the clouds,
Pale on his green bed where the light rains down.

Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling like
A sick child would smile, he dozes.
Warmly lull him Nature, he’s cold.

The scents no longer make his nose quiver
He sleeps in the sun, hand on his chest
Tranquil, he has two red holes on his right side


:cry: Too true Alna
Translated poems never do them justice
The last line made me gasp Alna
I also had to learn poems by heart in English German and French but apart from a few lines I am afraid I lost the rest
They were not my choice anyway what ever doesn't interests me immediately evaporates into thin air. :roll:

[alna]

Winky wrote:
Translated poems never do them justice

So true... Music of the phrases, feelings behind the words cannot be reproduced exactly like in the original version.
In the original version, "Le dormeur du val" is sadder.


Winky wrote: what ever doesn't interests me immediately evaporates into thin air. :roll:
:D same for me... :roll: