Paul Verlaine

(1844-1896 / France)

Paul Verlaine Poems

41. Oh, Heavy, Heavy My Despair 3/30/2010
42. Poemes Saturniens - Prologue 3/30/2010
43. Since Shade Relents 3/30/2010
44. Sleep, Darksome, Deep 3/30/2010
45. Son, Thou Must Love Me 3/30/2010
46. Spleen 3/30/2010
47. Streets 3/30/2010
48. Sur L'Herbe 3/30/2010
49. Tears Fall In My Heart 3/30/2010
50. The False Fair Days 3/30/2010
51. The Keyboard, Over Which Two Slim Hands Float 3/30/2010
52. The Piano 3/30/2010
53. The Rosy Hearth 3/30/2010
54. The Scene Behind The Carriage Window Panes 3/30/2010
55. The Sky-Blue Smiles Above The Roof 3/30/2010
56. The Tree's Reflection 3/30/2010
57. The Young Fools (Les Ingénus) 1/20/2003
58. Tis The Feast Of Corn 3/30/2010
59. Un Grand Sommeil Noir 3/30/2010
60. Vers Libres 3/30/2010
61. What Sayest Thou, Traveller 3/30/2010

Comments about Paul Verlaine

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/17/2015 12:41:00 PM)

    those verse are in «Aspiration», Paul Verlaine ('Premiers vers')

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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/17/2015 12:31:00 PM)

    «Là, tous les sons rêvés, là, toutes les splendeurs Inabordables»

    There, all the sounds dreamed, there, all the splendors unaffordable

Best Poem of Paul Verlaine

The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness.

Also, at times a jealous insect's dart
Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white
Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight
Was a delicate feast for a young fool's heart.

Evening fell, equivocal, dissembling,
The women who hung dreaming on our arms
Spoke in low voices, words that had such charms
That ever since our stunned soul has been trembling.

Read the full of The Young Fools (Les Ingénus)

A La Promenade

The milky sky, the hazy, slender trees,
Seem smiling on the light costumes we wear,-
Our gauzy floating veils that have an air
Of wings, our satins fluttering in the breeze.

And in the marble bowl the ripples gleam,
And through the lindens of the avenue
The sifted golden sun comes to us blue
And dying, like the sunshine of a dream.

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