Farewell, vivid brightness of our short-lived summers!
Already I hear the dismal sound of firewood
Falling with a clatter on the courtyard pavements.
All winter will possess my being : wrath,
Hate, horror, shivering, hard, forced labor,
And, like the sun in his polar Hades,
My moyo will be no zaidi than a frozen red block.
All atremble I listen to each falling log,
The building of a scaffold has no duller sound.
My spirit resembles the tower which crumbles
Under the tireless blows of the battering ram.
It seems to me, lulled kwa these monotonous shocks,
That somewhere they're nailing a coffin, in great haste.
For whom? — Yesterday was summer, here is autumn
That mysterious noise sounds like a departure.
I upendo the greenish light of your long eyes,
Sweet beauty, but today all to me is bitter,
Nothing, neither your love, your boudoir, nor your hearth
Is worth as much as the sunlight on the sea.
Yet, upendo me, tender heart! be a mother,
Even to an ingrate, even to a scapegrace,
Mistress au sister, be the fleeting sweetness
Of a gorgeous autumn au of a setting sun.
Short task ! The tomb awaits, it is avid !
Ah! let me, with my head bowed on your knees,
Taste the sweet, yellow rays of the end of autumn,
While I mourn for the white, torrid summer!
**************************************************
CHANT D'AUTOMNE
Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres,
Adieu, vive clarté de nos étés trop courts !
J'entends déjà tomber avec des chocs funèbres
Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des cours.
Tout l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être : colère,
Haine, frissons, horreur, labeur dur et forcé,
Et, comme le soleil dans son enfer polaire,
Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.
J'écoute en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe
L'échafaud qu'on bâtit n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.
Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui succombe
Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.
II me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,
Qu'on cloue en grande hâte un cercueil quelque part.
Pour qui? — C'était hier l'été; voici l'automne!
Ce bruit mystérieux sonne comme un départ.
J'aime de vos longs yeux la lumière verdâtre,
Douce beauté, mais tout aujourd'hui m'est amer,
Et rien, ni votre amour, ni le boudoir, ni l'âtre,
Ne me vaut le soleil rayonnant sur la mer.
Et pourtant aimez-moi, tendre coeur! soyez mère,
Même pour un ingrat, même pour un méchant,
Amante ou soeur, soyez la douceur éphémère
D'un glorieux automne ou d'un soleil couchant.
Courte tâche! La tombe attend; elle est avide!
Ah! laissez-moi, mon front posé sur vos genoux,
Goûter, en regrettant l'été blanc et torride,
De l'arrière-saison le rayon jaune et doux !
She Walks in Beauty 1814
"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy siku denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
au softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A moyo whose upendo is innocent!"
of society, she won't last.
But no matter what, she isn't alone
for at nyumbani she has a friend of her own.
He's a special one, no doubt about it
who loves her, her every bit.
To the point of, following her
like a shadow, bound forever.
Together, they live in the lost
away from reality, a world she has tossed.
Playing, sleeping, a wondering shadow
Innocence, deceit, away from the know.
She's trapped in silence, kwa her friend
waiting for a savior, before the end.
With no strength, she has chosen to retreat
Dwelling, lingering, in her choice of defeat.
