The Penguin Book of French Poetry Read online

  Now the sister of mercy is lighting the lamps, she is bringing the patients’ meals, she has dosed the windows on the canal, and all the doors to the moonlight.

  Trois princesses m’ont embrassé

  Trois princesses m’ont embrassé.

  La première dans les souterrains.

  J’ai vu tomber des pierreries

  Sur mes lèvres et sur mes mains.

  Trois princesses m’ont embrassé.

  La seconde dans les corridors.

  Le soleil mangeait nos baisers.

  J’ai vu qu’il faisait beau dehors.

  Trois princesses m’ont embrassé.

  La troisième au haut de la tour.

  J’ai vu la fuite de l’amour,

  Et l’espace l’emporter sans retour.

  Three Princesses kissed me

  Three princesses kissed me. The first in the vaulted caverns. I saw precious stones falling on my lips and on my hands.

  Three princesses kissed me. The second in the galleries. The sun ate our kisses. I saw that the day was beautiful outside.

  Three princesses kissed me. The third at the top of the tower. I saw the escape of love, and space carry it beyond return.

  Two synthesizing poets:

  Moréas and de Régnier

  In their parallel evolution these two poets, often dismissed as insipid and bourgeois, can perhaps be seen more positively as model, undemonstrative professionals, blending their awareness of tradition and of new influences into a concise if transparent synthesis of nineteenth-century tendencies in poetry. They deserve some measure of recall from the oblivion into which most Symbolists have fallen.

  Jean Moréas

  (1856–1910)

  Of Greek origin but French education and inclinations, Moréas’ real name was Papadiamantopoulos. One of the initiators of the Symbolist movement in the 1880s and a prominent early theorist, he turned away from Symbolism’s blurred vision at the end of that decade, favouring a return to Graeco-Latin inspiration and disciplined, lucid techniques. He founded a group known as the Ecole Romane which included Charles Maurras, Raymond de la Tailhède and Maurice du Plessys.

  Les Stances are generally considered to be his most mature and valuable work. A sequence of highly compressed yet unhermetic poems, they are a refined blend of Romantic sentiment, classical clarity of image and Symbolist musicality, producing a haunting lyricism in which his technical virtuosity is less obviously contrived than in his early work.

  Major volumes: Les Syrtes 1884, Les Cantilènes 1886, Le Pèlerin passionné 1891, Enone au clair visage 1893, Eriphyle et quatre Sylves 1894, Les Stances 1899–1901–1920.

  Stances

  Livre I, xii

  Les morts m’écoutent seuls, j’habite les tombeaux;

  Jusqu’au bout je serai l’ennemi de moi-même.

  Ma gloire est aux ingrats, mon grain est aux corbeaux;

  Sans récolter jamais je laboure et je sème.

  Je ne me plaindrai pas: qu’importe l’Aquilon,

  L’opprobre et le mépris, la face de l’injure!

  Puisque quand je te touche, ô lyre d’Apollon,

  Tu sonnes chaque fois plus savante et plus pure?

  Stanzas

  Book I, xii

  The dead alone are my listeners, I am an inhabitant of tombs; until the end I will be my own enemy. The ungrateful have my halo, the ravens have my berries; never a harvester, I plough and I sow.

  I will not complain: what matters the North Wind, disgrace and contempt, the countenance of slander! For at my touch, O lyre of Apollo, you sound each time more refined and more pure?

  Livre III, vi

  Relève-toi, mon âme, et redeviens la cible

  De mille flèches d’or:

  Il faut qu’avec ma main cette Minerve horrible

  Frappe la lyre encor.

  L’arbre portant ses fruits, le vent qui le renverse,

  Sur le front d’un ami

  La pâle mort déjà, la trahison qui berce

  Le soupçon endormi,

  L’étoile à l’horizon, le phare sur le môle,

  La coupe au cristal fin

  Que j’ai jetée ainsi par-dessus mon épaule,

  Toute pleine de vin,

  Et chacun de mes jours, tels qu’une fleur qui passe

  Sur l’onde et disparaît:

  Dans mon destin comment sauraient-ils trouver place,

  Cet espoir, ce regret?

  Book III, vi

  Rise up, my soul, and become once more the target of a thousand golden arrows: with my hand this hideous Minerva must strike the lyre once more.

  The tree bearing its fruits, the wind that uproots it, pale death already on the brow of a friend, treachery that cradles dormant suspicion,

  The star on the horizon, the beacon on the breakwater, the goblet of fine crystal that I threw thus over my shoulder, brimming with wine,

  And each of my days, like a flower drifting by to oblivion on the waters: how could they find a place in my destiny, this hope, this yearning?

  Livre IV, iv

  Sunium, Sunium, sublime promontoire

  Sous le ciel le plus beau,

  De l’âme et de l’esprit, de toute humaine gloire

  Le berceau, le tombeau!

  Jadis, bien jeune encore, lorsque le jour splendide

  Sort de l’ombre vainqueur,

  Ton image a blessé, comme d’un trait rapide,

  Les forces de mon coeur.

  Ah! qu’il saigne, ce coeur! et toi, mortelle vue,

  Garde toujours doublé,

  Au-dessus d’une mer azurée et chenue,

  Un temple mutilé.

  Book IV, iv

  Sunium, Sunium, sublime promontory beneath the fairest of skies, of soul and spirit, of all human glory the cradle and the grave!

  Once long ago, still very young, when resplendent day emerges from conquering shadows, your image has wounded, like a speeding dart, the strength of my heart.

  Ah! how it bleeds, this heart! and you, mortal sight, keep for ever doubled, above an azure-coloured and foam-white sea, a mutilated temple.

  Livre VI, viii

  L’insidieuse nuit m’a grisé trop longtemps!

  Pensif à ma fenêtre,

  O suave matin, je veille et je t’attends;

  Hâte-toi de paraître.

  Viens! au dedans de moi s’épandra ta clarté

  En élément tranquille:

  Ainsi l’eau te reçoit, ainsi l’obscurité

  Des feuilles te distille.

  O jour, ô frais rayons, immobilisez-vous,

  Mirés dans mes yeux sombres,

  Maintenant que mon coeur à chacun de ses coups

  Se rapproche des ombres.

  Book VI, viii

  The insidious night has intoxicated me too long! Thoughtful at my window, O sweet morning, I keep vigil and await you; come swiftly into sight.

  Come! within me your brightness will spread as a placid element: thus water welcomes you, thus the darkness of leaves distils you.

  O daylight, O fresh rays, be still, reflected in my lustreless eyes, now that my heart with each of its beats grows closer to the shadows.

  Livre VII, iv

  J’allais dans la campagne avec le vent d’orage,

  Sous le pâle matin, sous les nuages bas;

  Un corbeau ténéreux escortait mon voyage,

  Et dans les flaques d’eau retentissaient mes pas.

  La foudre à l’horizon faisait courir sa flamme

  Et l’Aquilon doublait ses longs gémissements;

  Mais la tempête était trop faible pour mon âme,

  Qui couvrait le tonnerre avec ses battements.

  De la dépouille d’or du frêne et de l’érable

  L’Automne composait son éclatant butin,

  Et le corbeau toujours d’un vol inexorable

  M’accompagnait sans rien changer à mon destin.

  Book VII, iv

  Through the countryside I went w
ith the stormy wind, in the pale morning light, beneath the low clouds; a shadowy raven accompanied my journey, and my steps reverberated in the pools of water.

  Lightning launched its flame along the horizon and the North Wind redoubled its prolonged moaning; but the tempest was too weak for my soul, which drowned the thunder with its throbbing.

  With the golden plunder of ash and maple Autumn gathered its resplendent booty, and the raven still with relentless flight travelled with me, changing nothing in my destiny.

  Henri de Régnier

  (1864–1936)

  A versatile lyric poet who achieved in his work a harmonious blend of Romantic, Parnassian and Symbolist influences, de Régnier wrote both metrically orthodox and freer verse characterized by delicate musicality. Its Verlainian and Symbolist features never clouded entirely his capacity for sentiment and eroticism. His taste for plastic imagery and his admiration for Heredia led him firmly into a neo-classical Parnassianism at the turn of the century, but the emotional element never disappeared entirely from his work.

  Major volumes: Poèmes anciens et romanesques 1890, Tel qu’en songe 1892, Jeux rustiques et divins 1897, Les Médailles d’argile 1900, La Cité des Eaux 1902, La Sandale ailée 1906, Le Miroir des Heures 1910.

  Le Socle

  L’Amour qui souriait en son bronze d’or clair

  Au centre du bassin qu’enfeuille, soir à soir,

  L’automne, a chancelé en se penchant pour voir

  En l’onde son reflet lui rire, inverse et vert.

  Le prestige mystérieux s’est entr’ouvert;

  Sa chute, par sa ride, a brisé le miroir,

  Et dans la transparence en paix du cristal noir

  On l’aperçoit qui dort sous l’eau qui l’a couvert.

  Le lieu est triste; l’if est dur; le cyprès nu.

  L’allée au loin s’enfonce où nul n’est revenu,

  Dont le pas à jamais vibre au fond de l’écho;

  Et, de l’Amour tombé du socle qu’il dénude,

  Il reste un bloc ègal qui semble le tombeau

  Du songe, du silence et de la solitude.

  The Plinth

  The Cupid who smiled in his bright gilded bronze, at the centre of the pool strewn with leaves by autumn as evenings pass, toppled as he leaned to see in the waters his laughing reflection, inverted and green.

  The mysterious illusion broke open; his fall through its ripple broke the mirror, and in the transparency at peace of the dark crystal he can be seen sleeping beneath the water that covered him.

  The place is sad; the yew is hard; the cypress bare. The avenue penetrates the distance; no one has returned there whose step might resonate for ever in the depths of the echo;

  And, of the Cupid fallen from the plinth he has denuded, there remains a uniform block which seems the tomb of dreaming, of silence and solitude.

  La Prisonnière

  Tu m’as fui; mais j’ai vu tes yeux quand tu m’as fui;

  Je sais ce qu’à la main pèse ta gorge dure

  Et le goÛt, la couleur, la ligne et la courbure

  De ton corps disparu que mon désir poursuit.

  Tu mets entre nous deux la forêt et la nuit;

  Mais, malgré toi, fidèle à ta beauté parjure,

  J’ai médité ta forme éparse en l’ombre obscure

  Et je te referai la même. L’aube luit;

  J’y dresserai le bloc debout de ta statue

  Pour en remplir l’espace exact où tu fus nue.

  Captive en la matière inerte, désormais,

  Tu t’y tordras muette et encor furieuse

  D’être prise, vivante et morte pour jamais,

  Dans la pierre marbrée ou la terre argileuse.

  The Prisoner

  You have slipped away from me; but I saw your eyes when you slipped away from me; I know the weight of your firm breasts in the hand and the taste, the colour, the line and the curve of your vanished body pursued by my desire.

  You put between us the forest and the night; but in spite of you, faithful to your false-swearing beauty, I have contemplated your figure diffused in the dark shadow and I will remake you identically. Dawn is breaking;

  I will raise within it the upright block of your statue to fill with it the precise space where you were naked. A captive henceforth in inert matter.

  You will writhe mute and yet enraged at being caught, alive and dead for ever, in marbled stone or clayish earth.

  Julie aux yeux d’enfant

  Lorsque Julie est nue et s’apprête au plaisir,

  Ayant jeté la rose où s’amusait sa bouche,

  On ne voit dans ses yeux ni honte ni désir;

  L’attente ne la rend ni tendre ni farouche.

  Sur son lit où le drap mêle sa fraîche odeur

  Au parfum doux et chaud de sa chair savoureuse,

  En silence, elle étend sa patiente ardeur

  Et son oisive main couvre sa toison creuse.

  Elle prépare ainsi sans curiosité

  Pour l’instant du baiser sa gorge et son visage,

  Car, fleur trop tôt cueillie et fruit trop tôt goÛté,

  Julie aux yeux d’enfant est jeune et n’est plus sage!

  Julie with the Childlike Eyes

  When Julie is naked and preparing herself for pleasure, having cast away the rose on which her mouth was playing, her eyes show neither shame nor desire; expectation makes her neither tender nor wild.

  On her bed where the sheet mingles its fresh fragrance with the soft and warm perfume of her delicious flesh, in silence she displays her patient passion, and her indolent hand covers her hollowed fleece.

  And so she makes ready without curiosity her breasts and her face for the moment of the kiss, for, a flower plucked too soon and a fruit tasted too early, Julie with the childlike eyes is young and no longer good!

  Sa chambre aux murs savants lui montre en ses miroirs

  Elle-même partout répétée autour d’elle

  Ainsi qu’en d’autres lits, elle s’est, d’autres soirs,

  Offerte, indifférente, en sa grâce infidèle.

  Mais lorsqu’entre ses bras on la serre et l’étreint,

  La caresse importune en son esprit n’éveille

  Que l’écho monotone, ennuyeux et lointain

  De quelque autre caresse, à celle-là pareille;

  C’est pourquoi, sans tendresse, hélas! et sans désir,

  Sur ce lit insipide où sa beauté la couche

  Elle songe à la mort et s’apprête au plaisir,

  Lasse d’être ce corps, ces membres, cette bouche…

  Et pourquoi, ô Julie, ayant goÛté ta chair,

  De ta jeunesse vaine et stérile on emporte

  Un morne souvenir de ton baiser amer,

  Julie aux yeux d’enfant, qui voudrais être morte.

  Her room with the knowing walls shows to her in its mirrors herself repeated everywhere around her just as in other beds, on other evenings, she has offered herself, indifferent, in her faithless grace.

  But when within arms she is clasped and embraced, the intrusive caress awakens in her mind only the monotonous, tiresome and distant echo of some other caress, resembling this one;

  That is why, without affection, alas! and without desire, on this tasteless bed where her beauty lays her she muses on death and prepares herself for pleasure, weary of being this body, these limbs, this mouth…

  And that is why, O Julie, when one has tasted of your flesh, from your empty sterile youth is borne away a mournful memory of your bitter kiss, Julie with the childlike eyes, who would rather be dead.

  Saint-Pol Roux

  (1861–1940)

  Pierre-Paul Roux adopted the name Saint-Pol Roux, and was also known by friends and admirers as ‘le Magnifique’ and ‘le Divin’. Much of his verse and his rhythmic, highly assonanced prose-poetry has a religious impulse, and he represents one culmination of Symbolism: an emotional, intensely visionary power of language to generate an Image of the
beauty of God’s created universe. Metaphors abound, as the poet in his turn creates a world of essential signs, recognizing no barrier between conscious and subconscious orders. The revelatory nature of this poetry was much admired by the Surrealists, and he has also been likened to the German mystic Novalis.

  Saint-Pol Roux conceived poetry as an ‘esprit de participation’, a perception of abstract and concrete, of divine idea and physical matter, that is shared by children, mystics and primitive societies. He gave the name ‘Idéoréalisme’ to this synthesis.

  Born in Marseille, he later settled in Brittany, and died there shortly after he and his family had been brutally attacked by German soldiers in 1940.

  Major volumes: Les Reposoirs de la Procession 1893, La Rose et les épines du chemin 1901, Anciennetés 1903, De la Colombe au corbeau par le paon 1904, Les Féeries intérieures 1907.

  Golgotha

  Le ciel enténébré de ses plus tristes hardes

  S’accroupit sur le drame universel du pic.

  Le violent triangle de l’arme des gardes

  A l’air au bout du bois d’une langue d’aspic.

  Parmi des clous, entre deux loups à face humaine,

  Pantelant ainsi qu’un quartier de venaison