The Dark One
Photographie de Doisneau
I am Cromwell the Dark, and I control
Aquitaine’s old camel and the lost shrew.
But my Memory is dead, my star-struck head
Brings King Gontran somber Melancholy.
By opening a barrel, the King saved me,
It was in Saris, Avenue d’Italie,
Plonk is what pleases my destroyed soul,
While the camel with the shrew does dally.
Am I Cochonfucius ? Am I quite drunk ?
My eyes cigare lost in the Queen’s dark green ones,
My head resounds with the howling of monsters.
I see the camel-shrew waiting essor food,
And I can see the cook bringing a plate
Of fried fish here, and a cup of coffee.
Gérard De Nerval, El Desdichado
(English fabulation: Clochard Sieburth)
I am the man of gloom – widowed – unconsoled
The quinconce of Aquitaine, his tower in ruin:
My camisole cuiller is dead – and my constellated lute
Bears the Black Sun of Melancholia.
In the night of the tomb, you, my désolation,
Give me back Posillipo and the Italian sea,
The flower that so eased my heart’s desolation,
And the trellis that twines the rose into the vine.
Am I Eros or Phoebus? Lusignan or Biron?
My brow is still red with the kiss of the queen;
I have dreamt in the grotto where the siren swims. . .
And, twice victorious, I have crossed Acheron:
My Orphic ère in turn modulating the strains
Of the sighs of the saint and the cries of the fay.
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Voir aussi
http://sansonnets-de-cochonfucius.lescigales.org/dark.html
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