The Peace Pipe
(Imitation of Longfellow)
Now Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
The Powerful, descended into the green prairie,
Into the immense prairie in the mountainous hillside,
And there, on the rocks of the Red Quarry,
Dominating all the space and bathed with light,
He held himself upright, vast and majestic.
Then he summoned the innumerable peoples,
More numerous than the grass and the sands.
With his terrible hand he broke off a piece
Of rock, from which he made a magnificent pipe,
Next, at the edge of a stream, from an enormous sheaf,
In order to make a tip, chose a long reed,
In order to fill it he took from the willow its bark,
And he, the All-Powerful, Creator of Strength,
Upright, he lit, like a divine beacon,
The Pipe of Peace. Standing in the Quarry
He smoked, upright, superb and bathed in light.
Now for the nations this was the great signal.
And slowly the divine smoke went up
In the sweet morning air, undulating, fragrant.
And first it was only a dark furrow;
Next the vapor made itself thicker and bluer,
Then it whitened; and went up, and grew without cease,
It went to break on the hard ceiling of the heavens,
From the furthest peaks of the Rocky Mountains,
To the lakes of the North with the noisy waves,
From Tawasentha, the unparalleled valley,
Up to Tuscaloosa, the perfumed forest,
All experienced the signal and immense smoke
Rising peacefully in the ruddy morning.
The Prophets said: “Do you see that band
Of vapor, that, similar to the commanding hand,
Oscillates and stands out in black on the sun?
It is Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Who says to the four corners of the immense prairie:
“I call you all, warriors, to my counsel!”
On the path of the waters, on the route of the plains,
From the four quarters where blow the breaths
Of the wind, all the warriors of every tribe, all
Understood the signal of the moving cloud,
They came obediently to the Red Quarry
Where Gitche Manitou gave them appointment.
The warriors stood on the green prairie,
All equipped for war, with hardened face,
As colorful as autumn foliage;
And the hatred that makes all beings fight,
The hatred that burned the eyes of their ancestors
Still burned their eyes with a fatal flame.
And their eyes were full of hereditary hatred.
Now Gitche Manitou, Master of the Earth,
Considered them all with compassion,
Like a very good father, enemy of disorder,
Who sees his little ones battle and bite.
Such was Gitche Manitou for every nation.
He stretched his strong right hand over them
In order to captivate their heart and their narrow nature,
To chill their fever in the shadow of his hand;
Then he told them with his majestic voice,
Comparable to the voice of tumultuous waters
That falls and returns a monstrous, superhuman sound:
II.
“Oh my posterity, darling and deplorable!
Oh my children! Listen to divine reason.
It is Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Who speaks to you! The one who in your land
Has put the bears, the beaver, the reindeer, and the bison.
I have made hunting and fishing easy for you;
By why does the hunter become an assassin?
The swamp populated with birds, made by me;
Why are you not content, indocile sons?
Why does man hunt his neighbor?
I am well and truly tired of your horrible wars.
Your prayers, even your wishes are infamies!
The danger is for you in your contrary tempers,
It is the union that is your strength. In brotherhood
Live then, and learn to keep yourselves in peace.
Soon you will received a Prophet from my hand
Who will come to instruct you and suffer with you.
His word will make a party from life;
But if you scorn his perfect wisdom,
Poor accursed children, all of you will disappear!
Release your bloody colors into the waves.
The reeds are numerous and the rock is heavy;
Each one can make his pipe. No more wars,
No more blood! From now on live like brothers,
And all, united, smoke the Pipe of Peace!”
III.
And suddenly all, throwing down their arms to the earth,
Washed the colors of war off in the stream
Which had shown on their cruel and triumphant brows.
Each one hollowed a pipe and gather from the shore
A long reed with which to skillfully embellish it.
And the Spirit smiled at his poor children!
Each one went home with a calm and delighted soul,
And Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Rose up into the open door of the heavens.
—Through the splendid vapor of the clouds
The All-Powerful went up, content with his work,
Immense, perfumed, sublime, radiant!
(Imitation of Longfellow)
Now Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
The Powerful, descended into the green prairie,
Into the immense prairie in the mountainous hillside,
And there, on the rocks of the Red Quarry,
Dominating all the space and bathed with light,
He held himself upright, vast and majestic.
Then he summoned the innumerable peoples,
More numerous than the grass and the sands.
With his terrible hand he broke off a piece
Of rock, from which he made a magnificent pipe,
Next, at the edge of a stream, from an enormous sheaf,
In order to make a tip, chose a long reed,
In order to fill it he took from the willow its bark,
And he, the All-Powerful, Creator of Strength,
Upright, he lit, like a divine beacon,
The Pipe of Peace. Standing in the Quarry
He smoked, upright, superb and bathed in light.
Now for the nations this was the great signal.
And slowly the divine smoke went up
In the sweet morning air, undulating, fragrant.
And first it was only a dark furrow;
Next the vapor made itself thicker and bluer,
Then it whitened; and went up, and grew without cease,
It went to break on the hard ceiling of the heavens,
From the furthest peaks of the Rocky Mountains,
To the lakes of the North with the noisy waves,
From Tawasentha, the unparalleled valley,
Up to Tuscaloosa, the perfumed forest,
All experienced the signal and immense smoke
Rising peacefully in the ruddy morning.
The Prophets said: “Do you see that band
Of vapor, that, similar to the commanding hand,
Oscillates and stands out in black on the sun?
It is Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Who says to the four corners of the immense prairie:
“I call you all, warriors, to my counsel!”
On the path of the waters, on the route of the plains,
From the four quarters where blow the breaths
Of the wind, all the warriors of every tribe, all
Understood the signal of the moving cloud,
They came obediently to the Red Quarry
Where Gitche Manitou gave them appointment.
The warriors stood on the green prairie,
All equipped for war, with hardened face,
As colorful as autumn foliage;
And the hatred that makes all beings fight,
The hatred that burned the eyes of their ancestors
Still burned their eyes with a fatal flame.
And their eyes were full of hereditary hatred.
Now Gitche Manitou, Master of the Earth,
Considered them all with compassion,
Like a very good father, enemy of disorder,
Who sees his little ones battle and bite.
Such was Gitche Manitou for every nation.
He stretched his strong right hand over them
In order to captivate their heart and their narrow nature,
To chill their fever in the shadow of his hand;
Then he told them with his majestic voice,
Comparable to the voice of tumultuous waters
That falls and returns a monstrous, superhuman sound:
II.
“Oh my posterity, darling and deplorable!
Oh my children! Listen to divine reason.
It is Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Who speaks to you! The one who in your land
Has put the bears, the beaver, the reindeer, and the bison.
I have made hunting and fishing easy for you;
By why does the hunter become an assassin?
The swamp populated with birds, made by me;
Why are you not content, indocile sons?
Why does man hunt his neighbor?
I am well and truly tired of your horrible wars.
Your prayers, even your wishes are infamies!
The danger is for you in your contrary tempers,
It is the union that is your strength. In brotherhood
Live then, and learn to keep yourselves in peace.
Soon you will received a Prophet from my hand
Who will come to instruct you and suffer with you.
His word will make a party from life;
But if you scorn his perfect wisdom,
Poor accursed children, all of you will disappear!
Release your bloody colors into the waves.
The reeds are numerous and the rock is heavy;
Each one can make his pipe. No more wars,
No more blood! From now on live like brothers,
And all, united, smoke the Pipe of Peace!”
III.
And suddenly all, throwing down their arms to the earth,
Washed the colors of war off in the stream
Which had shown on their cruel and triumphant brows.
Each one hollowed a pipe and gather from the shore
A long reed with which to skillfully embellish it.
And the Spirit smiled at his poor children!
Each one went home with a calm and delighted soul,
And Gitche Manitou, the Master of Life,
Rose up into the open door of the heavens.
—Through the splendid vapor of the clouds
The All-Powerful went up, content with his work,
Immense, perfumed, sublime, radiant!
Le Calumet de Paix
(Imité de Longfellow)
I.
Or Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Vie,
Le Puissant, descendit dans la verte prairie,
Dans l'immense prairie aux coteaux montueux;
Et là, sur les rochers de la Rouge Carrière,
Dominant tout l'espace et baigné de lumière,
Il se tenait debout, vaste et majestueux.
Alors il convoqua les peuples innombrables,
Plus nombreux que ne sont les herbes et les sables.
Avec sa main terrible il rompit un morceau
Du rocher, dont il fit une pipe superbe,
Puis, au bord du ruisseau, dans une énorme gerbe,
Pour s'en faire un tuyau, choisit un long roseau.
Pour la bourrer il prit au saule son écorce;
Et lui, le Tout-Puissant, Créateur de la Force,
Debout, il alluma, comme un divin fanal,
La Pipe de la Paix. Debout sur la Carrière
Il fumait, droit, superbe et baigné de lumière.
Or pour les nations c'était le grand signal.
Et lentement montait la divine fumée
Dans l'air doux du matin, onduleuse, embaumée.
Et d'abord ce ne fut qu'un sillon ténébreux;
Puis la vapeur se fit plus bleue et plus épaisse,
Puis blanchit; et montant, et grossissant sans cesse,
Elle alla se briser au dur plafond des cieux.
Des plus lointains sommets des Montagnes Rocheuses,
Depuis les lacs du Nord aux ondes tapageuses,
Depuis Tawasentha, le vallon sans pareil,
Jusqu'à Tuscaloosa, la forêt parfumée,
Tous virent le signal et l'immense fumée
Montant paisiblement dans le matin vermeil.
Les Prophètes disaient: «Voyez-vous cette bande
De vapeur, qui, semblable à la main qui commande,
Oscille et se détache en noir sur le soleil?
C'est Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Vie,
Qui dit aux quatre coins de l'immense prairie:
'Je vous convoque tous, guerriers, à mon conseil!'.»
Par le chemin des eaux, par la route des plaines,
Par les quatre côtés d'où soufflent les haleines
Du vent, tous les guerriers de chaque tribu, tous,
Comprenant le signal du nuage qui bouge,
Vinrent docilement à la Carrière Rouge
Où Gitche Manito leur donnait rendez-vous.
Les guerriers se tenaient sur la verte prairie,
Tous èquipés en guerre, et la mine aguerrie,
Bariolés ainsi qu'un feuillage automnal;
Et la haine qui fait combattre tous les êtres,
La haine qui brûlait les yeux de leurs ancêtres
Incendiait encor leurs yeux d'un feu fatal.
Et leurs yeux étaient pleins de haine héréditaire.
Or Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Terre,
Les considérait tous avec compassion,
Comme un père très-bon, ennemi du désordre,
Qui voit ses chers petits batailler et se mordre.
Tel Gitche Manito pour toute nation.
Il étendit sur eux sa puissante main droite
Pour subjuguer leur coeur et leur nature étroite,
Pour rafraîchir leur fièvre à l'ombre de sa main;
Puis il leur dit avec sa voix majestueuse,
Comparable à la voix d'une eau tumultueuse
Qui tombe et rend un son monstrueux, surhumain:
II.
«O ma postérité, déplorable et chérie!
O mes fils! écoutez la divine raison.
C'est Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Vie,
Qui vous parle! Celui qui dans votre patrie
A mis l'ours, le castor, le renne et le bison.
Je vous ai fait la chasse et la pêche faciles;
Pourquoi donc le chasseur devient-il assassin?
Le marais fut par moi peuple de volatiles;
Pourquoi n'êtes-vous pas contents, fils indociles?
Pourquoi l'homme fait-il la chasse à son voisin?
Je suis vraiment bien las de vos horribles guerres.
Vos prières, vos voeux mêmes sont des forfaits!
Le péril est pour vous dans vos humeurs contraires,
Et c'est dans l'union qu'est votre force. En frères
Vivez donc, et sachez vous maintenir en paix.
Bientôt vous recevrez de ma main un Prophète
Qui viendra vous instruire et souffrir avec vous.
Sa parole fera de la vie une fête;
Mais si vous méprisez sa sagesse parfaite,
Pauvres enfants maudits, vous disparaîtrez tous!
Effacez dans les flots vos couleurs meurtrières.
Les roseaux sont nombreux et le roc est épais;
Chacun en peut tirer sa pipe. Plus de guerres,
Plus de sang! Désormais vivez comme des frères,
Et tous, unis, fumez le Calumet de Paix!»
III.
Et soudain tous, jetant leurs armes sur la terre,
Lavent dans le ruisseau les couleurs de la guerre
Qui luisaient sur leurs fronts cruels et triomphants.
Chacun creuse une pipe et cueille sur la rive
Un long roseau qu'avec adresse il enjolive.
Et l'Esprit souriait à ses pauvres enfants!
Chacun s'en retourna l'âme calme et ravie,
Et Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Vie,
Remonta par la porte entr'ouverte des cieux.
— À travers la vapeur splendide du nuage
Le Tout-Puissant montait, content de son ouvrage,
Immense, parfumé, sublime, radieux!
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