Showing posts with label Victor Hugo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Victor Hugo. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

more french poetry

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Autre Guitare
Comment, disaient-ils,
Avec nos nacelles,
Fuir les alguazils?
- Ramez, disaient-elles.

Comment, disaient-ils,
Oublier querelles,
Misère et périls?
- Dormez, disaient-elles.

Comment, disaient-ils,
Enchanter les belles
Sans philtres subtils?
- Aimez, disaient-elles.

Guitar Song
"How," he said,
"In a poor skiff at sea,
Can the coastguards be fled?"
"You must row," said she.

"How," he said,
"Can the memory be free
Of strife, sorrow, and dread?"
"You must sleep," said she.

"How," said he,
"Can one turn a fair head
Without strange sorcery?"
"You must love," she said.

---------

Jeune fille, l'amour, c'est d'abord un miroir...
Jeune fille, l'amour, c'est d'abord un miroir
Où la femme coquette et belle aime à se voir,
Et, gaie ou rêveuse, se penche;
Puis, comme la vertu, quand il a votre cœur,
Il en chasse le mal et le vice moqueur,
Et vous fait l'âme pure et blanche;

Puis on descend un peu, le pied vous glisse... - Alors
C'est un abîme! en vain la main s'attache aux bords,
On s'en va dans l'eau qui tournoie! -
L'amour est charmant, pur, et mortel. N'y crois pas!
Tel l'enfant, par un fleuve attiré pas à pas,
S'y mire, s'y lave et s'y noie.

Love, child, is first of all a mirror...
Love, child, is first of all a mirror where
Girls like to see themselves, flighty and fair;
There they like to pause, playful or demure;
Like virtue, next, it takes hold of the heart,
Drives away sin, makes sneering vice depart,
And leaves your spirit white and pure;

Then you go down a step, you start to slide - 
And it's a chasm! Vain to grip the side:
In the flood you go whirling down! - 
Pretty, pure, fatal - don't rely on it!
Children, drawn to a river bit by bit,
Admire themselves, and bathe, and drown.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Oh! N'insultez jamais une femme qui tombe!

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I think I've figured out what poem I want to use for my oral presentation in French at the beginning of December. It's by Victor Hugo and is called "Oh! N'insultez jamais une femme qui tombe!" or "Never revile a woman for her fall!"

French version:
Oh! N’insultez jamais une femme qui tombe!
Qui sait sous quel fardeau la pauvre âme succombe!
Qui sait combien de jours sa faim a combattu!
Quand le vent du malheur ébranlait leur vertu,
Qui de nous n’a pas vu de ces femmes brisées
S’y cramponner longtemps de leurs mains épuisées!
Comme au bout d’une branche on voit étinceler
Une goutte de pluie où le ciel vient briller,           
Qu’on secoue avec l’arbre et qui tremble et qui lutte,
Perle avant de tomber et fange après sa chute!

La faute en est à nous. A toi, riche! a ton or!
Cette fange d’ailleurs contient l’eau pur encor.
Pour que la goutte d’eau sorte de la poussière,
Et redevienne perle en sa splendeur première,
Il suffit, c’est ainsi que tout remonte au jour,
D’un rayon de soleil ou d’un rayon d’amour!

English version:
Never revile a woman for her fall!
Who knows what burdens made the poor thing crawl?
Who knows how long her hunger had to fight?
When blasts of hardship shake her sense of right,
Many a girl - haven't you known her? - stands
Firm a long time - holds on with worn-out hands;
As we see on a branch-tip, sparkling bright,
A drop of rain gleaming with heaven's light,
Tossed about with the tree, trembling and hurt,
A pearl before its fall - and after, dirt!

The fault is ours - yours, rich man, with your pay!
And dirt contains pure water to this day.
How can that drop of water leave the slime,
Regain the luster of its former time?
All things can rise back to the light above;
They need only a ray of sun or love!

My family's probably going to get really annoyed with me over Thanksgiving break because I'm going to be reciting this poem, along with Victor Hugo's life story, at every free moment. Our presentations have to be entirely spoken in French and completely memorized. That's a lot of work and effort I'm not normally willing to put into a school project. Bah!