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Saturday, February 04, 2006

Here is a great poem Etienne showed me:

Au Bord du Léthé
Clark Ashton Smith

Les pétales des vieux pavots,
Et les boutons des lys perdus,
Au bord du Léthé sont déchus
Pour joncher le fleuve sans flots.

Là se fanent des anémones,
Des lys tigrés, et des muguets,
Leurs pâles fleurs, leurs fruits violets,
Là tombent près des belladones.

Et là gisent les floraisons
D'automne, sous les vents sans trames;
Et là, des funestes jusquiames
Mêlent aux pensées leurs fleurons....

Et tous mes amours, tous mes mots,
Et tous mes rêves, disparus,
Au bord du Léthé sont déchus
Pour joncher le fleuve sans flots.


Here is the google translator's version for those of you who don't read French. It doesn't really translate well though, quite terribly actually, to the point of humour.

At the edge of Léthé
Clark Ashton Smith

The petals of the old poppies,
And the buttons of the lost lilies,
At the edge of Léthé are deposed
To strew the river without floods.

There anemones, striped lilies fade,
And lilies of the valley,
Their pale flowers, their purple fruits,
Là fall close to the belladonnas.

And there flowerings Of autumn lie,
under the winds without screens;
And there, with disastrous the jusquiames
With the thoughts their florets Mix....

And all my loves, all my words,
And all my dreams, disappeared,
At the edge of Léthé are deposed
To strew the river without floods.


No yelling in the comments about the translation please.

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