Venice masks

Monday 10 June 2013

Clair de Lune - Paul Verlaine

Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
   Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
   Of being sad in their fantastic trim.

The while they celebrate in minor strain
   Triumphant love, effective enterprise,
They have an air of knowing all is vain,
   And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise,

The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,
   That makes to dream the birds upon the tree,
And in their polished basins of white stone
   The fountains tall to sob with ecstasy.

Paul Verlaine (1844 - 1896) France
Translated by Gertrude Hall

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.