Il pleure dans ma coeur

5 02 2012

OK, so trawling through a bunch of old postcards, I came across a very dodgy looking example of ’80s acrylic art. “Angélique” apparently! Not one I recognised, and Mrs Elephant got coy when I asked about its provenance.

On the rear was a poem I was not familiar with (in French), by Paul Verlaine. Thought I might share…

Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénêtre mon coeur ?

O bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits !
Pour un coeur qui s’ennuie,
O le chant de la pluie !

Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s’écoeure.
Quoi ! nulle trahison ?
Ce deuil est sans raison.

C’est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi,
Sans amour et sans haine,
Mon coeur a tant de peine.

It rains in my heart
As it rains on the town,
What languor so dark
That it soaks to my heart?

Oh sweet sound of the rain
On the earth and the roofs!
For the dull heart again,
Oh the song of the rain!

It rains for no reason
In this heart that lacks heart.
What? And no treason?
It’s grief without reason.

By far the worst pain,
Without hatred, or love,
Yet no way to explain
Why my heart feels such pain!

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2 responses

7 02 2012
kathryningrid

Is it coincidental that the last word of the poem, “pain”, rhymes with “Verlaine” (in both languages)? Was he really that melancholy a fellow?

7 02 2012
Quieter Elephant

Meh!
The French… always find something to be emotional about. 😉

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