Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleureEt je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.
Here is my translation of this autumnal poem by Verlaine:
The long sobs
Of violins
Of autumn
Wound my heart
With a monotonous
Languor.
All suffocating
And pale, when
The hour chimes,
I remember
The old days
And I weep.
And I go off
In the cold wind
Which carries me
Hither, thither,
As a
Dead leaf.
Reviewed by Emily Ardagh