Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Le Cygne

So we have a new president now. I am very happy...excited is not the word. I have been powering along, mostly ennui-free which is great. With M. and B. gone I have no reason to go to those places and do those awkward, damaging things. Life is quieter now, but better. New year, new life, right?

This is one of Baudelaire's more famous poems. I wish it were pertinent to the situation at hand, but I guess I should be glad that it isn't. It's about old Paris and the mess that everyone has made of it. Perhaps this could be a reflection on our own country? Eh, we shall see.

The Swan
To Victor Hugo

I.
Andromache, I think of you! This little river,
Sad and scanty mirror where once shone
The immense majesty of your widow’s grief,
This lying Simoeis that grew by your tears,

Has suddenly impregnated my fertile memory,
As I crossed the new Carousel.
The old Paris is no longer (the form of a city
Changes more quickly, alas! Than the heart of a mortal);

I see only in spirit this entire camp of huts,
This pile of rough tents and boles,
The grasses, the large blocks turned green by the water of puddles,
And, shining in the windows, the muddled bric-a-brac.

There once was a menagerie here;
I saw here, one morning, at the hour where under the clouds
Cold and clear Work awakens, where the road
Pushes a somber hurricane into the silent air,

A swan that has escaped from his cage,
And, with his webbed feet chafing the dry pavement,
Drags his white plumage over the rough ground.
Close to a waterless stream the beast opened his beak

Nervously bathed his wings in the powder,
And said, heart full of his beautiful native lake”
“Water, when then will you rain? When will you thunder, lightning?”
I see that poor wretch, strange and fatal myth,

Toward the sky sometimes, like Ovid’s man,
Toward the sky ironic and cruelly blue,
Stretching his hungry head on his convulsive neck
As if he addressed reproaches to God!

II.
Paris changes! But nothing in my melancholy
Has moved! New palaces, scaffolding, blocks,
Old suburbs, all become allegory to me
And my dear memories are heavier than the rocks.

So in front of this Louvre an image oppresses me:
I think of my great swan, with his crazed movements,
Like exiles, ridiculous and sublime
And gnawed by a relentless desire! And then of you,

Andromache, fallen from the arms of a great husband,
Vile livestock, under the hand of superb Pyrrhus,
Bent in ecstasy behind an empty tomb
Widow of Hector, wife of Helenus!

I think of the negress, thinner and consumptive
Trudging through the mud, and searching, with haggard eye,
For the absent coconuts of magnificent Africa
Behind the immense wall of fog;

To whoever has lost what he has never found
Never! To the one who drinks of tears
And suckles Grief like a kind she-wolf!
To the scrawny orphans drying out like flowers!

Thus in the forest where my spirit is exiled
An old Memory rings at full horn blast!
I think of sailors forgotten on an island,
Of captives, of the vanquished! …of many others more!

Le Cygne
À Victor Hugo

I.
Andromaque, je pense à vous! Ce petit fleuve,
Pauvre et triste miroir où jadis resplendit
L'immense majesté de vos douleurs de veuve,
Ce Simoïs menteur qui par vos pleurs grandit,

A fécondé soudain ma mémoire fertile,
Comme je traversais le nouveau Carrousel.
Le vieux Paris n'est plus (la forme d'une ville
Change plus vite, hélas! que le coeur d'un mortel);

Je ne vois qu'en esprit tout ce camp de baraques,
Ces tas de chapiteaux ébauchés et de fûts,
Les herbes, les gros blocs verdis par l'eau des flaques,
Et, brillant aux carreaux, le bric-à-brac confus.

Là s'étalait jadis une ménagerie;
Là je vis, un matin, à l'heure où sous les cieux
Froids et clairs le Travail s'éveille, où la voirie
Pousse un sombre ouragan dans l'air silencieux,

Un cygne qui s'était évadé de sa cage,
Et, de ses pieds palmés frottant le pavé sec,
Sur le sol raboteux traînait son blanc plumage.
Près d'un ruisseau sans eau la bête ouvrant le bec

Baignait nerveusement ses ailes dans la poudre,
Et disait, le coeur plein de son beau lac natal:
«Eau, quand donc pleuvras-tu? quand tonneras-tu, foudre?»
Je vois ce malheureux, mythe étrange et fatal,

Vers le ciel quelquefois, comme l'homme d'Ovide,
Vers le ciel ironique et cruellement bleu,
Sur son cou convulsif tendant sa tête avide
Comme s'il adressait des reproches à Dieu!

II.
Paris change! mais rien dans ma mélancolie
N'a bougé! palais neufs, échafaudages, blocs,
Vieux faubourgs, tout pour moi devient allégorie
Et mes chers souvenirs sont plus lourds que des rocs.

Aussi devant ce Louvre une image m'opprime:
Je pense à mon grand cygne, avec ses gestes fous,
Comme les exilés, ridicule et sublime
Et rongé d'un désir sans trêve! et puis à vous,

Andromaque, des bras d'un grand époux tombée,
Vil bétail, sous la main du superbe Pyrrhus,
Auprès d'un tombeau vide en extase courbée
Veuve d'Hector, hélas! et femme d'Hélénus!

Je pense à la négresse, amaigrie et phtisique
Piétinant dans la boue, et cherchant, l'oeil hagard,
Les cocotiers absents de la superbe Afrique
Derrière la muraille immense du brouillard;

À quiconque a perdu ce qui ne se retrouve
Jamais, jamais! à ceux qui s'abreuvent de pleurs
Et tètent la Douleur comme une bonne louve!
Aux maigres orphelins séchant comme des fleurs!

Ainsi dans la forêt où mon esprit s'exile
Un vieux Souvenir sonne à plein souffle du cor!
Je pense aux matelots oubliés dans une île,
Aux captifs, aux vaincus!... à bien d'autres encor!
---
Victor Hugo, one of my most favorite authors. Summertime I would slink into beerhouses in the middle of the night looking for supplies and catch myself playing a modern-day Esmeralda. Who would have thought me so vain?

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