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AE Poetry Club

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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: AE Poetry Club
    Posted: 14-Mar-2012 at 13:34
Verlaine:

Out Walking

 

          (Fêtes Galants: A La Promenade)

 

The sky so pale the trees so slender

Seem to smile at our bright dress

That floats lightly, with an excess

Of nonchalance, a wing-like tremor.

 

And the gentle wind wrinkles the pool,

And the light of the sun that softens too

The shade of the limes on the avenue

Renders us, as it will, mordant, blue.

 

Exquisite deceivers, charming coquettes

Tender hearts, but devoid of vows,

Speak with us delightfully and bow,

And lovers flirt with their little pets,

 

A hand imperceptibly will enlist

Now and then a tap, exchanged

For a kiss on the little finger ranged

At the very tip, and since the thing is

 

Immensely excessive and quite fierce,

One is punished by a withering glance,

Which contrasts with, as it may chance,

The forgiving pout that the lips rehearse.

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 14-Mar-2012 at 13:35
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 15-Mar-2012 at 19:07
Verlaine:

The Innocents

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Les Ingénus)

 

High heels fought with their long dresses,

So that, a question of slopes and breezes,

Ankles sometimes glimmered to please us,

Ah, intercepted! – Dear foolishnesses!

 

Sometimes a jealous insect’s sting

Troubled necks of beauties under the branches,

White napes revealed in sudden flashes

A feast for our young eyes’ wild gazing.

 

Evening fell, ambiguous autumn evening:

The beauties, dreamers who leaned on our arms,

Whispered soft words, so deceptive, such charms,

That our souls were left quivering and singing.




Edited by Don Quixote - 15-Mar-2012 at 19:11
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 16-Mar-2012 at 11:45
Verlaine

Her Retinue

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Cortège)

 

A monkey in brocaded vest

Gambols and cavorts for She

Who twists a lace handkerchief

In her hand gloved to the wrist,

 

While a small black slave in red

Holds the train, at arm’s length,

Of her heavy robe, intent

To see that no fold’s disordered.

 

The monkey never takes his eyes

From the lady’s soft white throat.

Opulent treasure whose rich note

Asks a god’s torso, bare, as prize.

 

The slave will sometimes raise the height,

Rascal, higher than he needs,

Of his sumptuous load, so he

May see what he dreams of at night;

 

Yet she appears now unaware

As up the flight of stairs she goes

How insolent approval shows

In her familiar creatures’ stare.




Edited by Don Quixote - 16-Mar-2012 at 11:48
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 17-Mar-2012 at 23:44
Verlaine

The Sea-Shells

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Les Coquillages)

 

Each shell, encrusted, we see,

In the cave where we sought love’s goal,

Has its own peculiarity.

 

One has the purple colour of souls,

Ours, thief of the blood our hearts possess

When I burn and you flame, like hot coals.

 

That one affects your languorousness,

Your pallor, your weary form

Angered by my eyes’ mocking caress:

 

This one mimics the charm

Of your ear, and this I see

Your rosy neck, so full and warm:

 

But one, among all of them, troubled me.

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 17-Mar-2012 at 23:48
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 18-Mar-2012 at 16:57
Verlaine:

Aboard

 

          (Fêtes Galants: En Bateau)

 

The shepherd’s star, it shivers,

The steersman, in darker waters,

Seeks fire in the depths of his trousers.

 

Now’s the hour, Gentlemen, or never,

To be daring, and you’ll discover

My hands, from now on, all over!

 

Atys, the knight, scratching at

His guitar, on cool Chloris casts

A glance, and a wicked one at that.

 

The priest confesses poor Églé,

And that Vicomte, in disarray,

Prince of the Fields, gives his heart away.

 

Meanwhile the moon sheds its glow

On the skiff’s brief course below,

Gaily riding the dream-like flow.

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 18-Mar-2012 at 16:59
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 19-Mar-2012 at 19:46
Verlaine:

The Faun

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Le Faune)

 

An ancient faun of terra-cotta

Centring the bowling-green

Laughs, without doubt presaging,

A sad end to this time serene,

 

Which has led me and has led you,

Melancholy pilgrims lean,

To this hour whose vanishing

Swirls to the sounding tambourine.



Edited by Don Quixote - 19-Mar-2012 at 19:47
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 20-Mar-2012 at 17:51
Verlaine:

Mandoline

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Mandoline)

 

The players of serenades

And their lovely listeners

Swap insipid remarks, made

Beneath singing branches.

 

Here are Tircis and Aminta

And the eternal Clitander,

And Damis who makes for many a

Cruel one, many a verse that’s tender.

 

Their jackets of silk cut short,

The long trains of their robes,

Their elegance, joyous retorts,

And their soft bluish shadows,

 

Whirl in the ecstasy

Of a moon that’s pink and grey,

While among the gusts of breeze

The mandoline tinkles away.




Edited by Don Quixote - 20-Mar-2012 at 17:52
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 22-Mar-2012 at 02:41
Verlaine:

To Clymène

 

          (Fêtes Galants: A Clymène)

 

Mystical singing-birds,

Romances without words,

Dear, because your eyes

  The shade of skies,

 

Because your voice, strange

Vision that must derange,

Troubling the horizon

  Of my reason,

 

Because the rare perfume

Of your swanlike paleness,

Because the innocence

  Of your fragrance,

 

Ah, because all your being,

Music so piercing,

Clouds of lost angels,

  Tones and scents,

 

Has by soft cadences

With its correspondences,

Lured my subtle heart, Oh

  Let it be so!



Edited by Don Quixote - 22-Mar-2012 at 02:41
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 22-Mar-2012 at 17:36
Verlaine:

Cupid Overthrown

 

          (Fêtes Galants: L’Amour par Terre)

 

Last night’s wind saw Cupid’s overthrow,

Who, in the park’s most mysterious corner,

Would bend his bow in guileful laughter,

His aspect causing us to daydream so!

 

Last night’s wind toppled him! The marble

Shattered with dawn’s breath. It’s sad to see

His pedestal, with sculptor’s name a mystery,

Scarce legible in the shadow of an arbour.

 

Oh, it’s sad to see the empty pedestal

All bare! And melancholy fancies entering

Wander through my dream, where deep chagrin

Calls up a future solitary and fateful.

 

Oh, it’s sad! – And you feel it, yes, you too,

Touched by the sight, though your roaming eye

Toys with the gold and crimson butterfly

Skimming the debris on the pathway strewn.



Edited by Don Quixote - 22-Mar-2012 at 17:37
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 23-Mar-2012 at 10:54
Verlaine:

Muted

 

          (Fêtes Galants: En Sourdine)

 

Calm in the half-light

Tall branches surround,

Let our love be filled by

This silence profound.

 

Hearts and souls blend there

And senses’ ecstasy,

With the vague languor

Of pine and strawberry.

 

With eyelids scarce apart,

Arms crossed in dream,

From your slumbering heart

Chase forever every scheme.

 

Let’s be convinced at last

By the sweet lulling breeze

That makes the russet grass

Wave, in ripples, at your feet.

 

And when solemn evening

Falls from black oaks there,

The nightingale will sing,

The voice of our despair.



Edited by Don Quixote - 23-Mar-2012 at 10:57
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 25-Mar-2012 at 20:13
Verlaine:

Muted

 

          (Fêtes Galants: En Sourdine)

 

Calm in the half-light

Tall branches surround,

Let our love be filled by

This silence profound.

 

Hearts and souls blend there

And senses’ ecstasy,

With the vague languor

Of pine and strawberry.

 

With eyelids scarce apart,

Arms crossed in dream,

From your slumbering heart

Chase forever every scheme.

 

Let’s be convinced at last

By the sweet lulling breeze

That makes the russet grass

Wave, in ripples, at your feet.

 

And when solemn evening

Falls from black oaks there,

The nightingale will sing,

The voice of our despair.




Edited by Don Quixote - 25-Mar-2012 at 20:38
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 27-Mar-2012 at 01:25
Verlaine:

Sentimental Conversation

 

          (Fêtes Galants: Colloque Sentimental)

 

In the lonely old park’s frozen glass

Two dark shadows lately passed.

Their lips were slack, eyes were blurred,

The words they spoke scarcely heard.

In the lonely old park’s frozen glass

Two spectral forms invoked the past.

‘Do you recall our former ecstasies?’

‘Why would you have me rake up memories?’

‘Does your heart still beat at my name alone?’

‘Is it always my soul you see in dream?’ – ‘Ah, no’.

‘Oh the lovely days of unspeakable mystery,

When our mouths met!’ – ‘Ah yes, maybe.’

‘How blue it was, the sky, how high our hopes!’

‘Hope fled, conquered, along the dark slopes.’

So they walked there, among the wild herbs,

And the night alone listened to their words.




Edited by Don Quixote - 27-Mar-2012 at 01:27
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 28-Mar-2012 at 00:30
Verlaine:

In Her Dress….

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: III)

 

With her dress of grey-green frills,

One June day, I was feeling anxious,

She appeared, smiling at my glances,

The one I admired without fear of ill.

 

She came, went, returned, spoke, and sat,

Serious, light, ironic, tender,

And I felt, deep in my soul, so sombre,

Some joyous reflection of all that:

 

Her voice, its subtle music’s tone,

Delightfully accompanying

The artless wit of a sweet chattering

Where a kind heart’s joy was shown.

 

I was as quickly, once the semblance

Of my rebellion was over, wholly

In the power of that little Fairy,

As since I’ve sought to be, trembling.




Edited by Don Quixote - 28-Mar-2012 at 00:34
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 30-Mar-2012 at 13:31
Verlaine:

Before You Leave, Pale…

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: V)

 

Before you leave, pale

Morning star that shines,

          – A thousand quail

Calling, calling in the thyme –

 

Turn towards your poet,

With sad eyes so lovelorn,

          – The lark as yet

Still climbs the sky with dawn –

 

Turn here your gaze, that day

Drowns in his azure;

          – What joy always

In fields of ripening corn! –

 

And make my thoughts glow

There – far, oh, far away,

          – The dew shines so,

Shines glistening on the hay –

 

Within the sweet dream

Where yet my love makes one…

          – Swiftly, swiftly,

For here’s the golden sun! –




Edited by Don Quixote - 30-Mar-2012 at 13:31
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05-Apr-2012 at 01:26
Verlaine:

The Moon, White…

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: VI)

 

The moon, white,

Shines in the trees:

From each bright

Branch a voice flees

Beneath leaves that move,

 

O well-beloved.

 

The pools reflect

A mirror’s depth,

The silhouette

Of willows’ wet

Black where the wind weeps…

 

Let us dream, time sleeps.

 

It seems a vast, soothing,

Tender balm

Is falling

From heaven’s calm

Empurpled by a star…

 

It’s the exquisite hour.




Edited by Don Quixote - 05-Apr-2012 at 01:31
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10-Apr-2012 at 02:48
Verlaine:

A Saint In His Aureole….

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: VIII)

 

A Saint in her aureole,

A Chatelaine in her tower,

All that contains the soul

Of human grace and amour;

 

The gilded note; the sound

Of a horn in the woods far away,

Wed to the tender pride found

In noble Ladies of yesterday;

 

With that, the lofty charm

Of a fresh conquering smile

Born in the swan’s pure calm

And the blushes of a grown child;

 

Pearl aspects, of white and rose,

Sweet patrician harmony:

I see, I hear all I suppose,

In its Carolingian identity.



Edited by Don Quixote - 10-Apr-2012 at 02:49
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12-Apr-2012 at 03:05
Verlaine:

Home, The Lamp’s Circumscribed Glow

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: XIV)

 

Home, the lamp’s circumscribed glow:

Dreaming there with fingers on brow

And looks wandering among loved looks;

The hour of infusions of tea, and closed books;

The sweetness at feeling the evening’s conclusion;

The charming fatigue and adored expectation

Of nuptial shadows and of the soft night,

Oh, all that, my fond dream pursues in flight

Relentlessly, beyond all vain remissions,

Raging at weeks, impatient with seasons!




Edited by Don Quixote - 12-Apr-2012 at 03:06
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 17-Apr-2012 at 02:28
Verlaine:

I Was Almost Afraid….

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: XV)

 

I was almost afraid, it’s so,

I felt my life so entwined

At the radiance in my mind

That last summer seized my soul,

 

Your image, forever dear,

So lives in this heart that’s yours,

My heart, uniquely jealous, adores

The loving and pleasing you here;

 

And I tremble, forgive me please

For speaking so freely to you,

To think that a word, a smile or two

From you is now my destiny,

 

And it only takes a gesture, but one,

Or a sound or your eye blinking,

To set all my being in mourning

With its heavenly deception.

 

Yet I would rather see you,

Though the future for me prove sombre

Full of miseries without number,

Than in hope’s distant view,


Plunged in this joy supreme

Tell myself ever and again,

Despite the return of such pain,

That I love you, that I love thee!



Edited by Don Quixote - 17-Apr-2012 at 02:29
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 23-Apr-2012 at 14:13
Verlaine:

The Noise From Bars….

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: XVI)

 

The noise from bars, the pavement’s mire,

Ruined sycamores leafing on black ire:

The bus, a typhoon of mud and metal,

Bouncing, between wheels, with its rattle,

Rolling its red and green eyes slowly,

Workers off to the club, pipes smoking,

Under the eyes of police, those drones,

Roofs dripping, sweating walls, damp stones,

Broken asphalt, gutters where sewers blend,

Behold, my road – with paradise at the end.

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 23-Apr-2012 at 14:37
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 09-May-2012 at 01:08
Verlaine:

Is It Not So?….

 

          (La Bonne Chanson: XVII)

 

Is it not so? Despite the fools, the malevolent

Those who’ll never fail to envy our happiness,

We will sometimes be proud and forever indulgent.

 Is it not so? We’ll go, gaily, slowly, on the modest

Road that reveals to us Hope smiling,

Whether we’re seen or ignored, ever careless.

 Enclosed by love as in a dark wood, exhaling

Our two hearts, their peaceful tenderness,

Will be two nightingales in the dusk singing.

 As for the World, let it be angered by us,

Or tender, what can its gestures signify?

Let it make us a target, or let it caress us.  

 Bound by the strongest and dearest tie,

And more, possessing adamantine armour,

We’ll smile and fear nothing that meets the eye.

 Un-preoccupied with whatever Fate destines for

Us, marching onwards and in step we’ll go,

Hand in hand, with the childlike souls, what’s more,

 Of those whose love is untainted, is it not so?




Edited by Don Quixote - 09-May-2012 at 01:11
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