Difference between revisions of "HPB-SB-3-53"
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+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Dieu me dounerait-il sa plus belle etoile, | ||
+ | J’aime miens l’enfant qu’il m’a donne,|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Enfants, voici des bcenfs qui passent; | ||
+ | Cachez vos rouges tabliers,|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Lorsquo I'entant parait le cerole qui ratlmire.|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Oh! j’ai vu de si pres les foules miserablos. | ||
+ | I have looked so closely on the miserable crowd; | ||
+ | Its license and its insolence, its clamors coarse and loud; | ||
+ | Wretches by civil war to greatness who increased; | ||
+ | On the judge who should himself he tried; the impure priest. | ||
+ | Serving and smirching God, preaching Yes and proving No— | ||
+ | Seen so closely all the vileness man’s beauty hides below; | ||
+ | In good the ill, in truth the lie; in glory’s stately march | ||
+ | Proud empty Nothings strutting on ’neath the triumphal arch: | ||
+ | I've seen so much that bends, that bites, that runs away, | ||
+ | That feeble, now, and old, and worn, it is my choice to stray | ||
+ | Hereafter to the end alone in forest wilds untrod. | ||
+ | There may I bleed and meditate. And even should a god | ||
+ | Once more to bribe me hack to cities offer me | ||
+ | Glory, and youth, and love, and strength, and victory, | ||
+ | It might prove well that I my woodland cave had kept, | ||
+ | For I am not too sure that I might not accept!|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem='Tween us and Heaven as veils and bars, | ||
+ | A peace profound all lit with stars ; | ||
+ | ’Tis this God thinks of as He keeps | ||
+ | The poet where the baby sleeps! | ||
+ | |||
+ | “Lætitia Rerum” | ||
+ | |||
+ | L’aragne sur l’eaii fait des ronds; | ||
+ | O.' ciel bleu ! l'ombre est sous la treille | ||
+ | Le jour tremble, et les mousherons | ||
+ | Yiennent vous parler a l'oreille. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Wanders about the hungry bee, | ||
+ | The yellow wasp bestirs him more, | ||
+ | For all the perfume-drinkers, see, | ||
+ | The spring sets out her lavish store. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Behold the bees to banquet pass, | ||
+ | Prinked out with proper etiquette. | ||
+ | The rosebud is a brimming glass; | ||
+ | The lily is a table set. | ||
+ | |||
+ | From flowers as yet that scarce unclose | ||
+ | The gnat quaffs gold in ecstacy, | ||
+ | And in his tavern of a rose | ||
+ | Dead-drunken lies the butterfly !|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Sans doute il est tard, car voici | ||
+ | Qne vient tout près de moi chanter mon rouge-garget | ||
+ | Yacarme de inarteaux lointains dans une forge. | ||
+ | L’eau clapote. On entend haleter un steamer. | ||
+ | One mouche entre. Souffle immense de la men|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=Towards noon | ||
+ | Jean has an amiable habit of sleeping. | ||
+ | Her mother a moment may breathe and repose | ||
+ | For there’s labor in serving if only a rose ; | ||
+ | We watch her, we smile, and our cares vanish all, | ||
+ | She’s a star with the further advantage she’s small. | ||
+ | Tho shadow in love with her seems to adore her. | ||
+ | And the breeze holds its breath as it light passes o’er her. | ||
+ | But, soft! the lids open, out goes one plump arm, | ||
+ | One foot, then the other, and then with such charm | ||
+ | That the angels must bend from the blue heavens to hear | ||
+ | She babbles and coos. Then the mother draws near. | ||
+ | Her accents are music ; she bends o’er the nest. | ||
+ | Seeks what term of endearment will fit it the best. | ||
+ | Her joy, her bud-angel, her “ nightmare !” The mother | ||
+ | Says, “ Oho! you’re awake again, then, Little Bother ! ”|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | ... | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|From “The Moon”, orig: “[https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/La_Lune_(Hugo) La Lune]”, part II “[http://poesie.webnet.fr/lesgrandsclassiques/poemes/victor_hugo/choses_du_soir.html Choses du soir]”|center}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=The fog is cold and the copse is gray ; | ||
+ | The steers as they move to the water, low ; | ||
+ | The moon from the black clouds taking way, | ||
+ | A light affright seems to come and go. | ||
+ | Je ne sais plus quand, je ne sais plus où, | ||
+ | Maître Yvon soufflait dans son biniou. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The traveller trudges, the earth is brown. | ||
+ | A shadow chases, a shade leads on. | ||
+ | Light where the sun climbs, white where it goes down. | ||
+ | Moonlight yonder, and hither the dawn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The sitting sorceress mutters her spell, | ||
+ | To the roof the spider his web binds up; | ||
+ | Glow sprites flash and shake in the fires of the dell | ||
+ | Like pistils of gold in a tulip’s cup. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Up over the sea come the night-fogs white; | ||
+ | Shipwreck is dogging a shivering mast. | ||
+ | Says the wind, “ To-morrow ” the wave, “'To-night ;” | ||
+ | Despairing voices flutter past. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The coach sets out from Avranche for Fougère ; | ||
+ | Its whip in the dusk makes a lightning-flash. | ||
+ | This is the moment when floating in air, | ||
+ | The gloom gathers vast round the murmurs that clash. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In each forest-vista a tire glows. | ||
+ | A graveyard is seen on the mountain-height; | ||
+ | Where does God find all the gloom that He throws | ||
+ | O’er the broken heart and the falling night ? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Silver flakes tremble along the sands ; | ||
+ | The chalky cliff with gold is lined ; | ||
+ | The shepherd the flight of monstrous bands | ||
+ | Of devils follows athwart, the wind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Each chimney dons a hodden plume ; | ||
+ | With his faggot the woodman hastes to house ; | ||
+ | You hear o'er the rush of the rivulet’s flume | ||
+ | The shiver and moan of the wind-swayed, boughs. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Gaunt wolves, morose, howl in hungry dreams ; | ||
+ | The river races, the clouds have fled ; | ||
+ | Behind the pane the lamp-light gleams | ||
+ | On a little child with a flaxen head. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Je ne sais plus quand, je ne sais plus où, | ||
+ | Maître Yvon soufflait dans son biniou. | ||
+ | |||
+ | … | ||
+ | Peut-être, là-haut, il est, dans l’Ignoré, | ||
+ | Un dieu supérieur aux dieux que nous rêvâmes, | ||
+ | Capable de donner des astres à des âmes.|signature=}} | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Style P-Poem|poem=“ [https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Le_Poème_du_Jardin_des_Plantes Le poeme du Jardin des Plantes] ” | ||
+ | Le comte de Buffon fut bonhomme, il créa | ||
+ | Ce jardin imité d’Évandre et de Rhéa | ||
+ | Et plein d’ours plus savants que ceux de la Sorbonne, | ||
+ | Afin que Jeanne y puisse aller avec sa bonne ; | ||
+ | … | ||
+ | Le bon goût, ce ruisseau, par Nisard, ce concierge, | ||
+ | Livre au singe excessif la forêt, cette vierge, | ||
+ | Et permet à Dupin de ressembler aux chiens. | ||
+ | (Pauvres chiens !)<ref>{{Style S-HPB SB. Editors note|The rest of original verses in French could be found in [https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Catégorie:Poèmes_de_Victor_Hugo Wikisource]}}</ref>|signature=}} | ||
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+ | {{Footnotes}} |
Revision as of 14:20, 15 September 2021
< Spirit Photography (continued from page 3-53) >
...
Hugo's "Art of Being a Grandfather"
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Dieu me dounerait-il sa plus belle etoile, |
...
Enfants, voici des bcenfs qui passent; |
...
Lorsquo I'entant parait le cerole qui ratlmire. |
...
Oh! j’ai vu de si pres les foules miserablos. |
...
'Tween us and Heaven as veils and bars, |
...
Sans doute il est tard, car voici |
...
Towards noon |
...
The fog is cold and the copse is gray ; |
“ Le poeme du Jardin des Plantes ” |
...
Decoration
Footnotes
- ↑ Hugo's "Art of Being a Grandfather" by unknown author
- ↑ <The rest of original verses in French could be found in Wikisource>
- ↑ Decoration by unknown author