Le ciel est, par-dessus…
Paul Verlaine (1844-96)
Verlaine is in prison, in Mons (at first, in Brussels), for shooting Rimbaud in the wrist.
Le ciel est, par-dessus…
Le ciel est, par-dessus le toit,
Si bleu, si calme !
Un arbre, par-dessus le toit,
Berce sa palme.
La cloche, dans le ciel qu’on voit,
Doucement tinte.
Un oiseau sur l’arbre qu’on voit
Chante sa plainte.
Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, la vie est là,
Simple et tranquille.
Cette paisible rumeur-là
Vient de la ville.
– Qu’as-tu fait, ô toi que voilà
Pleurant sans cesse,
Dis, qu’as-tu fait, toi que voilà,
De ta jeunesse ?There is the sky
There is the sky above the tiles,
Blue and at rest.
There is a tree above the tiles,
Rocking its crest.
The belfry in the sky we see
Pleasantly rings.
A bird upon the branch we see
Tunefully sings.
Dear God, dear God, life’s easy here,
Winds gently down.
The quiet murmur that we hear
Comes from the town.
How did you use them, you who now
Shed ceaseless tears,
How did you use them, tell me now,
Those youthful years?There is a setting by Delius.
Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès