Le Rebelle

And here it is. I would have thought this moment would have been about counting the painful-yet-oddly-triumphant episodes of Saturday past. Little questions, no answers, just guesses. Rehashing, relapsing, and love bites underneath the sullen sheets that protect us from the elements and the consequences of our actions. But no.

Young life is lost, love. Gone, gone, gone. I hate the universe and my own selfishness. Pray for the family of the departed. No names here, not ever. But pray.

The Rebel
A furious Angel pounces from the sky like an eagle,
Grabs a fistful of the miscreant’s hair,
And said, shaking him: “You will know the rule!
(Because I am your good Angel, do you hear?) I wish it!

Know that he must love, without grimacing,
The poor, the malicious, the deformed, the stupid,
So that you can make for Jesus, when he passes,
A triumphant carpet with your charity.

Such is Love! Before your heart becomes indifferent,
Rekindle your ecstasy in the glory of God;
It is the true Pleasure with the enduring charms!”

And the Angel, chastising as much, my faith! That he loves,
Torments the anathema with his giant fists;
But the damned one still responds: “I will not!”

Le Rebelle
Un Ange furieux fond du ciel comme un aigle,
Du mécréant saisit à plein poing les cheveux,
Et dit, le secouant: «Tu connaîtras la règle!
(Car je suis ton bon Ange, entends-tu?) Je le veux!

Sache qu'il faut aimer, sans faire la grimace,
Le pauvre, le méchant, le tortu, l'hébété,
Pour que tu puisses faire à Jesus, quand il passe,
Un tapis triomphal avec ta charité.

Tel est l'Amour! Avant que ton coeur ne se blase,
À la gloire de Dieu rallume ton extase;
C'est la Volupté vraie aux durables appas!»

Et l'Ange, châtiant autant, ma foi! qu'il aime,
De ses poings de géant torture 1'anathème;
Mais le damné répond toujours: «Je ne veux pas!»
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And then let me sing of you in a new way. Go into the universe. I hope you find it safe and warm.