13 mars 2008

Sonnet - Paul Verlaine (né en 1844)

L'espoir luit comme un brin de paille dans l'étable
Que crains-tu de la guêpe ivre de son vol fou ?
Vois, le soleil toujours poudroie à quelque trou.
Que ne t'endormais-tu, le coude sur la table ?

Pauvre âme pâle, au moins cette eau du puits glacé,
Bois-là. Puis dors un peu. Allons, tu vois, je reste,
Et je dorloterai les rêves de ta sieste,
Et tu chantonneras comme un enfant bercé.

Midi sonne. De grâce, éloignez-vous, madame.
Il dort. C'est étonnant comme les pas de femme
Résonnent au cerveau des pauvres malheureux.

Midi sonne. J'ai fait arroser dans la chambre.
Va, dors! L'espoir luit comme un caillou dans un creux.
Ah ! quand refleuriront les roses de septembre !

6 Comments:

At 10:36 PM, Anonymous Anonyme said...

An answer to Paul Verlaine's poem, by Walt Whitman, the greatest American poet:


As I lay with Head in your Lap, Camerado


AS I lay with my head in your lap, Camerado,
The confession I made I resume—what I said to you in the open air I resume:
I know I am restless, and make others so;
I know my words are weapons, full of danger, full of death;
(Indeed I am myself the real soldier;
It is not he, there, with his bayonet, and not the red-striped artilleryman;)
For I confront peace, security, and all the settled laws, to unsettle them;
I am more resolute because all have denied me, than I could ever have been had all accepted me;
I heed not, and have never heeded, either experience, cautions, majorities, nor ridicule;
And the threat of what is call’d hell is little or nothing to me;
And the lure of what is call’d heaven is little or nothing to me;
...Dear camerado! I confess I have urged you onward with me, and still urge you, without the least idea what is our destination,
Or whether we shall be victorious, or utterly quell’d and defeated.

 
At 1:39 PM, Anonymous Anonyme said...

What do you mean by:

"Voilà un anonyme que j'aurais eu plaisir à reconnaitre ou à connaitre.."

 
At 1:38 PM, Blogger JYL said...

Pourquoi tous ces anonymes qui font part de si belles choses. Voilà un anonyme que j'aurais peut être eu plaisir à reconnaitre ou à connaitre..
Mais tant pis, j'aime assez ce poème de Walt Whitman. Les mots (sont des armes)chargés de mort et de danger. Mais j'ajouterais bien qu'il peuvent être aussi chargés de plaisir et d'amour.
En tout cas ceux qui les utilisent et n'utilisent qu'eux pour faire triompher la justice sont les véritables héros (je préfère à soldat).

It is not because the wind gets up
The branches of the trees which move
It is not the end of the summer
Golden leaves covering your feet
It is not because a new day
The lively sun in your windows
It is not of a new divine child
The eyes which shine and smile to you
It is not because the weapons way of the peace is open
But love and words which generates the common miracles

 
At 1:56 PM, Blogger JYL said...

I mean:unfortunatly you are anonymous. I would have (perhaps) pleasure to know the person who announces a so beautiful poem.
If you want to remain anonymous on my blog you can write on my email address : joelyoyotte@free.fr
Thank you for any way of having participated in this exchange on my blog.

 
At 11:39 AM, Anonymous Anonyme said...

Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!

 
At 12:45 PM, Blogger Joël YOYOTTE-LANDRY said...

Thanks ! :))

 

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