from Vol. #8, Issue 3: Fall 2017
translated by Avery Broome

Three French Lyrics

Sea Breeze
by Stéphane Mallarmé

Pathetic flesh, alas! And I've read every book.
Flee! Flee far from here! It seems the birds are drunk
To be among unknown seafoam and the skies!
Nothing, not ancient gardens reflected in eyes
Can hold this heart which plunges in the sea
Oh nights! Nor my lamp whose barren clarity
Lights up empty paper whose sterility defeats me.
Nor the young woman with a baby at her breast.
I'll leave! Steamship with your swaying stacks
Raise anchor for a deserted nature, a land outcast!
Boredom, desolated by uncaring hope,
Still believes the handkerchief's final farewell!
And possibly the masts, enticing storms,
Will be tilted by the wind over the ship's broken form.
Doomed, without masts, without masts, nor even fertile islands…
But still, o heart, listen to the sailor's song!

Sleeper in the Valley
by Arthur Rimbaud

There's a hole in the grass where a river chimes
Clinging desperately to silvery shreds
Of weeds; where the sun over the proud peak
Gleams: it's a small valley lathered in beams.

A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
His neck bathing in fresh blue cress,
Sleeps; he lies in the grass, under the sky,
Pale in his green bed dripping with sunlight.

Feet in the gladioli, he sleeps. Smiling as
A sick child would smile, he takes a nap:
Nature, cradle him warmly: he is cold.

His nostrils don't tremble in a scented breeze;
He sleeps in the sunlight, hand on his breast,
Peaceful. He has two red holes through his chest.

Sea
by Paul Verlaine

The resounding Ocean
Pulses under the gaze
Of the mourning moon
And pulses still,
While a lightning flash
Savage and sinister
Rends the burnt brown sky
With a long clear gash,
And while each wave,
In convulsive leaps,
Along these reefs
Comes, goes, shines and shouts,
And while in the skies,
Where the hurricane strays,
Bellows the thunder
Wonderfully.

>> read the French text of these poems
>> read the translator's note

Paul Verlaine, Stéphane Mallarmé, and Arthur Rimbaud are considered to be the three greatest French poets of the nineteenth century. As a result, they've received no shortage of attention from scholars and translators.

About the translator: Avery Broome studies Political Science and French at the University of Chicago. She is writing a thesis on Machiavelli's political theory. Questions and requests for other translation work can be directed to averyb@uchicago.edu.

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