Jonathan ROBIN Poems
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It Rains In My Heart - Translation Paul Verlaine – Il Pleure Dans Mon Coeur
It rains in my heart
as on town and on mart,
pours down longings that start
to reign in my heart!
Oh soft ringing of rain
poured on earth, eave and pane,
for poor heart feeling pain,
oh the ringing of rain!
It rains without reason
in hurt heart fears have lease on.
What? - no season for treason?
Do I grieve without reason?
What most hurts me, I wait
‘Why’ not knowing, sad fate,
without love, without hate,
On my heart lies deadweight!
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Quelle est cette ...
Spinning criss cross patterns as they post across the harbour,
spray kissing, barely miss each other, business to the fore,
the junks and ferries seem such toys when seen from seventh floor
or stateroom on the seventeenth, but does it matter any more?
Does it matter, for the room is insulated from outside,
from heat and from humidity, from differences too wide
in wealth and wisdom where the West unwelcome is as bride,
though brides are taken for a time, who doweries provide.