Poetry

Poetry is a very old literary genre, with a variety of forms, generally written in verse but which also admits prose, and which favours the expressiveness of form, the words saying more than themselves by their choice and arrangement. Its definition proves difficult and varies according to the times, so much so that each century has been able to find a different function and a different expression, to which is added the approach specific to the personality of each poet.

Documents Section

You will find in this section some of my favourite poems and some essays of my own writing.

Chanson d'automne / Autumn Song

Paul Verlaine / 1844-1896

Les sanglots longs

Des violons

De l'automne

Blessent mon coeur

Monotone.


Tout suffocant

Et blème, quand

Sonne l'heure

Je me souviens

Des jours anciens

Et je pleure ;


Et je m'en vais

Au vent mauvais

Qui m'emporte

Deçà, delà,

Pareil à la

Feuille morte.



The long sobs.

Fiddlesticks.

From the fall.

Hurt my heart.

Monotone.


All suffocating.

And blemish, when?

Sounds like the time.

I remember.

From the old days.

And I'm crying.


And I'm going away.

In a bad wind.

Who's taking me away?

Here, here, here, here...

Same as la.

Dead leaf.

Plus ne suis ce que j'ai été / No longer am what I used to be

Clément Marot / 1492-1549

Plus ne suis ce que j'ai été,

Et plus ne saurais jamais l'être.

Mon beau printemps et mon été

Ont fait le saut par la fenêtre.


Amour, tu as été mon maître,

Je t'ai servi sur tous les dieux.

Ah si je pouvais deux fois naître,

Comme je te servirais mieux.



I'm not what I used to be.

And never will be again.

My beautiful spring and summer...

You jumped out the window.


Love, you've been my master, love, you've been my master.

I have served you on all the gods.

Oh, if I could be born twice...

As I would serve you better.

Rondel

Guillaume De Machaut / 1300-1377

Blanche comme lis, plus que rose vermeille,

Resplendissant com rubis d'Oriant.


En remirant vo biauté nonpareille,

Blanche comme lis, plus que rose vermeille.


Suis si ravis que mes (1) cuers toudis veille,

A fin que serve à loy de (2) fin amant,

Blanche comme lis, plus que rose vermeille,

Resplendissant com rubis d'Oriant.




(1) toujours.

(2) accompli.



White like lily, more than pinkish-green.

Resplendent as an Oriant ruby.


By remiranting nonparallel slanted void.

White like lily, more than pinkish-green.


I'm so glad you're still happy.

For the purpose of accomplishing the purpose of a lover...

White like lily, more than pinkish-green.

Resplendent as an Oriant ruby.

La promenade du soir / The evening walk

Vincent Voiture / 1598-1648

Sous un habit de fleurs la nymphe que j'adore

L'autre soir apparut si brillante en ces lieux,

Qu'à l'esclat de son teint et celuy de ses yeux

Tout le monde la prit pour la naissante Aurore.


La terre, en la voyant, fit mille fleurs éclore ;

L'air fut partout rempli de chants mélodieux,

Et les feux de la nuit paslirent dans les cieux

Et crurent que le jour recommançoit encore.


Le soleil qui tomboit dans le sein de Thétis

Rallumant tout à coup ses rayons amortis,

Fit tourner ses chevaux pour aller près d'elle,

Et l'empire des flots ne l'eut su retenir ;

Mais la regardant mieux et la voyant si belle,

Il se cacha sous l'onde et n'osa revenir.



Under a floral garment, the nymph I love.

The other night looked so bright in there.

That the glow of her skin tone and the glow of her eyes...

Everyone thought she was the newborn Aurora.


The earth, when she saw it, made a thousand flowers blossom ;

The air was everywhere filled with melodious singing.

And the fires of the night shone in the heavens.

And thought the day would come again.


The sun falling into the bosom of Thetis.

Suddenly turning on its dampened beams...

Make her turn her horses around to get close to her.

And the empire of the waves couldn't hold him back.

But looking at her better and seeing her so beautiful...

He hid under the wave and didn't dare come back.

La nature en éveil / Nature in awakening

Garlin Ludovic / 1989

Le soleil apparut comme un phénix,

Fondant sur sa proie encor endormie

Au-dessus des cimes en forme d'X,

Eblouissant d'une clarté infinie.


Les monts sinueux en ce beau matin

Etaient recouverts de neige éternelle,

Les nuages voguaient vers leur destin

Bercés par une brise maternelle.


Les fleurs frémissaient comme un arbrisseau,

Un rayon reflété par un ruisseau

Ressemblait à la venue d'un archange.


Un filet d'eau ruisselait le long d'arbres

Passant sous un pont pour réapparaître,

Tandis que voletait une mésange...



The sun came out like a phoenix.

Based on his still-sleeping quarry.

Above the X-shaped peaks,

Dazzling with infinite clarity.


The winding mountains on this beautiful morning.

Were covered with eternal snow.

The clouds were sailing towards their destiny.

Rocked by a mother's breeze.


The flowers were quivering like a little little twig,

A radius reflected by a stream.

It was like the coming of an archangel.


A trickle of water was running down the trees.

Passing under a bridge to reappear...

While a chickadee flew...