La Rançon/Bien loin d'ici

Yesterday we talked like humans...all three of us. Together for the first time since we congregated in the sweltering sympathy of August. Fortune has not smiled upon them, less so on one than the other. For one the anger has passed and is replaced by affectionate apathy. Toward the other the rage rears its head every now and again. We spoke of trials and victories, drunken stupors and a Refusal to Mourn. He understood. Where before he had treated my imposition as agenda, now it just came across as an unfortunate result of circumstance. I wish I had not wasted so much time being angry. One week to go before he disappears probably forever.

I am finding there is a difference between the oppression the world throws at you and the ennui that happens inside. I don't really like either.

The Ransom
Man has, in order to pay his ransom,
Two fields of tuff, deep and rich,
That he must turn over and cultivate
With the iron of reason;

In order to obtain the lesser rose,
In order to extort a few ears of corn,
With the salted tears of his dreary brow
He must water them ceaselessly.

One is Art, and the other is Love.
—To produce a favorable judge,
When of strict justice
The terrible day will appear,

He must show them barns
Full of crops, and flowers
Whose shapes and colors
Win the suffrage of the Angels.

La Rançon
L'homme a, pour payer sa rançon,
Deux champs au tuf profond et riche,
Qu'il faut qu'il remue et défriche
Avec le fer de la raison;

Pour obtenir la moindre rose,
Pour extorquer quelques épis,
Des pleurs salés de son front gris
Sans cesse il faut qu'il les arrose.

L'un est l'Art, et l'autre l'Amour.
— Pour rendre le juge propice,
Lorsque de la stricte justice
Paraîtra le terrible jour,

Il faudra lui montrer des granges
Pleines de moissons, et des fleurs
Dont les formes et les couleurs
Gagnent le suffrage des Anges.


Very Far From Here
This here is the sacred cabin
Where that much arrayed maiden,
Tranquil and ever prepared,

Fanning her breasts with her hand,
Her elbow in the cushions,
Listens to the fountains crying:

This is Dorothy’s bedroom.
—The breeze and the water sing in the distance,
Their song colliding with sobs
In order to cradle that spoiled child.

From top to bottom, with great care
Her delicate skin is scrubbed
With fragrant oil and benzoin.
—From the flowers that swoon in a corner.

Bien loin d'ici
C'est ici la case sacrée
Où cette fille très parée,
Tranquille et toujours préparée,

D'une main éventant ses seins,
Et son coude dans les coussins,
Écoute pleurer les bassins:

C'est la chambre de Dorothée.
— La brise et l'eau chantent au loin
Leur chanson de sanglots heurtée
Pour bercer cette enfant gâtée.

Du haut en bas, avec grand soin.
Sa peau délicate est frottée
D'huile odorante et de benjoin.
— Des fleurs se pâment dans un coin.
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I need to get out of here too.