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Tu le vois bien, dans ce regard,
La pluie n'aurait pas survécu
Pas un nuage, pas un orage,
Le bruit de l'eau, nul ne l'a su.
Il faut la nuit, il faut le vent,
L'aigre amertume des tourments
Pour que se mêle au calme étang
La pluie salée, le son du temps.
Goutte après goutte tout le bonheur
S'échauffe avide de douceur
Pas un soupçon, nulle moiteur,
Le souffle aride des jours heureux.
French Tries
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Click here to write your comments about this poem (Bonheur by French Tries)
Jonathan ROBIN (5/18/2008 2:22:00 PM)
You see, reflected in this glance,
that rain would never stand a chance.
No cloud, no storm, - aloud I muse
none slake their thirst from filmy dews.
One needs both night, dark wind that blows
the bitterness that torment knows,
for brine to percolate cool pool
with line from Time's recording spool.
Drop after dropp joy draws a guess
at warming, welcome, tenderness,
no hint, no sweat, so little trace
of heat heart greets with smiling face. |
Gary Witt (4/24/2008 6:50:00 PM)
This is very well done. I like the translation as well. My French is extremely rusty, but the idea of happiness eagerly escaping from or shedding sadness bit by bit, dropp by drop, or taste by taste, is very appealing. Thank you.
-G |
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