Joseph-Albert-Alexander Glatigny

Joseph-Albert-Alexander Glatigny Poems

Joseph-Albert-Alexander Glatigny Biography

Joseph Albert Alexandre Glatigny (May 21, 1839 - April 16, 1873), French poet, was born at Lillebonne (Seine Inférieure). His father, who was a carpenter and afterwards a gendarme, removed in 1844 to Bernay, where Albert received an elementary education. Soon after leaving school he was apprenticed to a printer at Pont Audemer, where he produced a three-act play at the local theatre. He then joined a travelling company of actors to whom he acted as prompter. Inspired primarily by the study of Théodore de Banville, he published his Vignes folles in 1857; his best collection of lyrics, Les Fleches d'or, appeared in 1864; and a third volume, Gilles et pasquins, in 1872. After Glatigny settled in Paris he improvised at cafe concerts and wrote several one-act plays. On an expedition to Corsica with a travelling company he was on one occasion arrested and put in irons for a week through being mistaken by the police for a notorious criminal. His marriage with Emma Dennie brought him great happiness, but the hardships of his life weakened his health and he died at Sèvres on the 16th of April 1873. See Catulle Mendès, Legende du Parnasse contemporain (1884), and Glatigny, drame funambulesque (1906).)

The Best Poem Of Joseph-Albert-Alexander Glatigny

Ballade Des Enfants Sans Souci

Ils vont pieds nus le plus souvent. L'hiver
Met a leurs doigts des mitaines d'onglee.
Le soir, helas! ils soupent du grand air,
Et sur leur front la bise echevelee
Gronde, pareille au bruit d'une melee,
A peine un peu leur sort est adouci
Quand avril fuit la terre consolee.
Ayez pitie des Enfants sans souci.

Ils n'ont sur eux que le manteau du ver,
Quand les frissons de la voute etoilee
Font tressaillir et briller leur oeil clair.
Par la montagne abrupte et la vallee,
Ils vont, ils vont! A leur troupe affolee
Chacun repond: 'Vous n'etes pas d'ici,
Prenez ailleurs, oiseaux, votre volee.'
Ayez pitie des Enfants sans souci.

Un froid de mort fait dans leur pauvre chair
Glacer le sang, et leur veine est gelee.
Les coeurs pour eux se cuirassent de fer.
Le trepas vient. Ils vont sans mausolee
Pourrir au coin d'un champs ou d'une allee,
Et les corbeaux mangent leur corps transi
Que lavera la froide giboulee.
Ayez pitie des Enfants sans souci.

ENVOI

Pour cette vie effroyable, filee
De mal, de peine, ils te disent: Merci!
Muse, comme eux, avec eux, exilee.
Ayez pitie des Enfants sans souci!

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