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Poulenc - Deux poèmes

Deux poèmes

Poulenc (1938)

Dans le jardin d'Anna

Certes si nous avions vécu dans l'an dix-sept cent soixante

Est-ce bien la date que vous déchiffrez Anna sur ce banc de pierre

Et que par malheur j'eusse été allemand
Mais que par bonheur j'eusse été près de vous
Nous aurions parlé d'amour de façon imprécise
Presque toujours en français
Et pendue éperdument à mon bras
Vous m'auriez écouté vous parler de Pythagoras
En pensant aussi au café qu'on prendrait
Dans une demi-heure.

Et l'automne eût été pareil à cet automne
Que l'épine-vinette et les pampres couronnent

Et brusquement parfois j'eusse salué très bas
De nobles dames grasses et langoureuses

J'aurais dégusté lentement et tout seul
Pendant de longues soirées
Le tokay épais ou la malvoisie
J'aurais mis mon habit espagnol
Pour aller sur la route par laquelle
Arrive dans son vieux carosse
Ma grand'mère qui se refuse à comprendre l'allemand

J'aurais écrit des vers pleins de mythologie
Sur vos seins la vie champêtre et sur les dames
Des alentours

J'aurais souvent cassé ma canne
Sur le dos d'un paysan

J'aurais aimé entendre de la musique en mangeant
Du jambon

J'aurais juré en allemand je vous le jure
Lorsque vous m'auriez surpris embrassant à pleine bouche
Cette sevante rousse

Vous m'auriez pardonné dans le bois aux myrtilles

J'aurais fredonné un moment
Puis nous aurions écouté longtemps les bruits du crépuscule

Allons plus vite

Et le soir vient et les lys meurent
Regarde ma douleur beau ciel qui me l'envoies

Une nuit de mélacholie

Enfant souris ô sœur écoute
Pauvres marchez sur la grande-route
O menteuse forêt qui surgis à ma voix
Les flammes qui brûlent les âmes

Sur le boulevard de Grenelle1
Les ouvriers et les patrons
Arbres de mai cette dentelle
Ne fais donc pas le fanfaron
Allons plus vite nom de Dieu
Allons plus vite

Tous les poteaux télégraphiques
Viennent là-bas le long du quai
Sur son sein notre République
A mis ce bouquet de muguet
Qui poussait dru le long du quai
Allons plus vite nom de Dieu
Allons plus vite

La bouche en cœur Pauline honteuse
Les ouvriers et les patrons

Oui-dà oui-dà belle endormeuse
Ton frère
Allons plus vite nom de Dieu
Allons plus vite

Guillaume Apollinaire

1A boulevard in Paris.

Two poems

 

In Anna's garden

Certainly if we had lived in the year seventeen hundred and sixty

that is the date you decipher Anna on this stone bench is it not

and that by misfortune I had been German
but by good fortune I had been close to you
we would have spoken of love in an vague way
nearly always in French
and hanging distractedly on my arm you would
have listened to me speaking to you of Pythagoras
whilst also thinking of the coffee that we would drink
in half an hour.

And the autumn would have been the same as this autumn
which the berberis and the vine branches crown

and suddenly sometimes I would have bowed very low
to some portly and langorous noble ladies

slowly and all alone I would have savoured
during long evenings
the rich tokay or the malmsey wines
I would have put on my Spanish suit
to go out on the road by which
in her old carriage
my grandmother comes who refuses to understand German

I would have written verses full of mythology
about your breasts the country life and about the ladies
of the neighbourhood

I would often have broken my stick
upon the back of some peasant

I would have enjoyed hearing music while eating
ham

I promise you I would have sworn in German
when you would have caught me embracing

that red-headed servant girl full on the mouth

you would have forgiven me in the bilberry wood

I whould have hummed for a moment
then we would have listened a long time to the sounds of the dusk

We must go faster

Evening comes and the lilies die
look at my suffering beautiful sky which sends me it

on a night of melancholy

smile child o sister listen
walk poor folk along the high road
o deceiving forest who rise at my voice
the flames which burn the souls

along the Boulevard de Grenelle
the workmen and the employers
trees of May this lace
stop playing the boaster
we must go faster in the name of God
we must go faster

all the telegraph poles
come over there along the quay
upon its breast our Republic
has placed this bunch of lily-of-the-valley
which grew thickly along the quay
we must go faster in the name of God
we must go faster

simpering shameful Pauline
the workmen and the employers

oh yes oh yes beautiful enchantress
your brother
we must go faster in the name of God
we must go faster

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

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