Les foins
La tiède lune au bord du ciel monte et sourit.
Vois sur les foins coupés trembler son halo gris;
La nature s’emplit comme une basilique
Du silence embaumé des soirs mélancoliques.
Au chemin de la vie et voilant sa laideur
L’oubli s’étend ainsi que la rosée en pleurs.
L’oubli divin s’étend somme l’herbe fleurie,
Déployée en nuage aux pentes des prairies.
Il semble que s’efface et meurt l’humanité,
Tant le souffle qui sort des lèvres de l’été
Et qui si doucement rôde aussi sur nos lèvres
De tout mesquin désir nous libère et nous sèvre.
La lune à travers l’ombre, et tel un oiseau blanc,
Suspend toujours plus clair son essor transparent
Et son calme plumage en neige diaphane
Se mêle au flot bleui de l’herbe qui se fane.
Parmi l’odeur des foins, avec des mots secrets
Sourdement murmurés, courent les ruisseaux frais
Où la lune attirée et mystique se penche,
Frôlant à leur miroir errant son aile blanche.
The hayfields
The tepid moon at heaven’s rim ascends and smiles.
See its grey halo trembling on mown hay in piles;
Like a basilica all nature is suffused
With mournful evenings’ scented silence undiffused.
And at the path of life, its plainness hid from view
Oblivion extends as does the tearful dew,
Oblivion divine extends like flowering grass
Spread out on meadow slopes like clouds that slowly pass.
It seems as if humanity grows blurred and dies,
As breath exhaled from summers lips at its demise
And which so softly lurks around our lips anew,
Free of all mean desire, which frees and weans us too.
The moon seen through the shade, and like a bird full white
Suspends its brightening, transparent upward flight
And all of its calm plumage in translucent snow
Blends with the bluish flowing of the grass below.
Among the hay’s sweet scent, with secret words at play
And mutely murmured, fresh streams course and wend their way
Where the attracted, mystic moon in downward swing
At their far-straying mirror skims its silver wing.
3 comments:
The edition I have found has 'Vois', not 'Voit' in line 2, but it seems very unlikely to me that the poem addresses practically all the poem to a reader, using the imperative. The poem reads like a description.
poem addresses > poet addresses
https://mariedauguet.blog4ever.com/les-foins
here line 2 also has 'Vois'. i will change the translation to agree with this.
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