Avatar: Myron Verne
VW: Second Life
Location: Paris
Country: FR
VW: Second Life
Location: Paris
Country: FR
In Memoriam
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne,
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et, quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Tomorrow, at daybreak, in Nature’s white slumber,
I shall go. You see, I know you wait for me.
I shall go, through the woods, beyond the hills,
I cannot stay away from you any longer.
I shall walk, gazing straight into my thoughts,
Without looking around, without hearing a thing,
Alone, unknown, bending my back, crossing my hands,
Forlorn, and daylight to me will be like night.
I shall not cast a look at the gold of sunset,
Nor at the sails moving back to harbor,
And when I reach my goal, I will lay on your grave
A bouquet of holly and flowering heather.
(Poem by Victor Hugo, and ‘miserable’ translation by M.Verne)
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne,
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et, quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Tomorrow, at daybreak, in Nature’s white slumber,
I shall go. You see, I know you wait for me.
I shall go, through the woods, beyond the hills,
I cannot stay away from you any longer.
I shall walk, gazing straight into my thoughts,
Without looking around, without hearing a thing,
Alone, unknown, bending my back, crossing my hands,
Forlorn, and daylight to me will be like night.
I shall not cast a look at the gold of sunset,
Nor at the sails moving back to harbor,
And when I reach my goal, I will lay on your grave
A bouquet of holly and flowering heather.
(Poem by Victor Hugo, and ‘miserable’ translation by M.Verne)
Oui, one might be un "miserable" especially when directly feeling what M Hugo describes, but this translation I think c'est tres admirable. Thank you for sharing it with us, my lord.
Lord Myron is certainly a intellect for translating this work. I applaud you sir, for sharing this with us. I did not know Victor Hugo's works, but I will surely look into it. To be honest I know nothing of this era other than the architecture and art. So many things learnt, and to learn. Thanks for opening another door.
Conte Bon
"No man is an iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee...."
John Donne
Cheri
~ A most profound and deeply moving expression of a shoreless love across the realms ~
Candace
We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from Thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Welcome back among us, my Lord Myron.