The French poem by Paul Verlaine is provided below my translation.
She was playing with her cat,
And it was a marvel to see
The white hand and the white paw
Battling in the shadow of night.
She was hiding - the scamp!
Under her mittens of black thread
Her murderous nails of agate,
So like a razor - clear and sharp.
The other also played the sweetie,
Drawing in its sharp claws
But the devil lost nothing in this...
And in the boudoir, where, sonorous,
Rang out his lofty laugh,
Shone four points of phosphorous.
Translated by Eugene Levich
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Elle jouait avec sa chatte,
Et c'était merveille de voir
La main blanche et la blanche patte
S'ébattre dans l'ombre du soir.
Elle cachait- la scélérate! —
Sous ses mitaines de fil noir
Ses meurtriers ongles d'agate,
Coupants et clairs comme un rasoir.
L'autre aussi faisait la sucrée
Et rentrait ses griffes acérées.
Mais le diable n'y perdait rien...
Et dans le boudoir ou, sonore,
Tintait son rire aérien,
Brillaient quatre points de phosphore.
Paul Verlaine, how wonderfully you translated him, my favorite French poet! (Chanson d'Automne) Thank You
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sorry. i'll need a translation of the translation. : ( but, thanks for sharing. :)