Treasure Island

T (no first name) Wignesan


London, Translation Of Paul Verlaine's Poem: Londres


…a serious and well-behaved Englishman, well-attired, handsome clothes (Victor Hugo)

(In this poem, I didn’t feel adhering strictly to the rhyme scheme would have served a higher purpose. T. Wignesan)

One summer Sunday when everything’s bathed in sunshine
London turns into a real feast for délicate souls tuned in:
Trees strong and rotund from frail lawns sprouting
Tender green, an air far from mists and gases grows fine.

So much so they appear to be planted in pastoral country
Limpid sunshine feathery in the fine sky, though blue-ish
Hardly. One feels as if in a bath where wafts
The perfume of a lingering infusion of tea.

Ten-thirty, the hour of interminable services
Divine. Thousands of melodious bells toll through the air
Sonorous and volatile as though seized by strange caprices,
The psalms of David come snorting through clear fog.

Such silvery tintinnabulation that one hears not in France,
The country of intensely tolling bells of bitter bronze
Strike up a concert that’s most sweet, instilling of hope and joyous
Though perhaps a little too sweet, one must there fear Hell.

Tolling bells again greet the afternoon. Men in queues
Well-dressed women and children glide rather
Than walk, hold to their silence in a selfish manner
With their voices reserved instead for exclaiming amen.

All this people look pleased in their stiffening posture
Clasping, even if mistakenly, to their profession of faith
And their Protestantism being alike rough and spineless
Makes some look even set right above the reach of the law.

Hopes of the true christian, Peter’s ever-widening fish-pond,
Fish ready for the Fisher who may count on catching them;
Holy-Ghost, God Almighty, let pour Thy light on them
So that Jesus’ worth they might at last come to understand.

Six o’clock. The drinkers find their way to the refreshment room,
The family its «home » and the street’s abandoned to God:
And in the dirty-looking sky a few stars look quite lonesome
Foreshadowing rain over homeless beggars out in the cold.

Submitted: Saturday, September 28, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

Comments about this poem (London, Translation Of Paul Verlaine's Poem: Londres by T (no first name) Wignesan )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Within My Mind Holds Dreams, Lilly Emery
  2. The Right Question, David Barz
  3. Confusing, george albot
  4. Bluegray, Saiom Shriver
  5. My Still Daughter, LoKis White
  6. By Another Icarus, Robert Rorabeck
  7. Lilies Of Lanka, Saiom Shriver
  8. Fiery Ferment, Saiom Shriver
  9. ZZ Cowkilling Cowboys Want To Murder Wil.., Saiom Shriver
  10. The ones we Love, Leroy Numa

Poem of the Day

poet Walt Whitman

ARM’D year! year of the struggle!
No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year!
Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas
piano;
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  5. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  6. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  8. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  9. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  10. If, Rudyard Kipling

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]