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Poems from the
French of
Jules Laforgue
A
lament upon certain vexations
Harlequin
mutterings
Harlequins
(they have principles)
A
lament upon certain vexations
Cosmologies,
they’re not the scene!
And
life’s routine is such a bore...
Never
forget, one thing was sure:
Our
wit was zilch—man, we were mean!
We’d
like to confess to certain things,
Astounding
ourselves as on we go,
So,
once and for all we get to know
Each
other without posturings.
We’d
like to bleed sweet Silence white
And
have the chattering class demoted;
But
no, the ladies are devoted
To
getting their precedences right!
With
such apt airs they sulk!—They what?
By
light of day a guy researches
By
what superaesthetic lurches
They
are such a delectable lot.
One
of them wants us to assist
The
search for a ring she cannot place,
(Lost
where, in this vast, empty space?)
A
token of LOVE, she will insist!
They
are such a delectable lot.
(translated
by Alan Marshfield)
(back)
Harlequin
mutterings
She
split, uncool;
Said
her goodbyes
Because
my eyes
Lacked
principle.
The
moments lapse....
The
tasty bite
Has
spawned tonight
Some
brat perhaps.
My
baby’s wed
To
some rich fool
Who’s
eligible
But
a dickhead.
(translated
by Alan Marshfield)
(back)
Harlequins
(they have principles)
She
used to say, airily and deeply unreal,
‘I
love you for what you are!’ Oh my, turn the page!
Like
art, ah yes! Calm, now – oh illusory wage
Of the capitalistic
Ideal!
She’d
whisper, ‘I am waiting and wretched, oh dear...’
And
with lunar candour she would regard the scene.
Oh
my, it was not, dare I say, just for a bean
We attended our
classes down here?
But
one fine evening, ill-starred and aptly on time
She
passes away! – oh my, a theme-change, absurd:
We
know that you are to be reborn on the third
Day, and if not in
person I’m
Sure
in the fragrance of the year’s most verdurous pools!
And
you will go on attracting dupes to the flirt
Of
La Gioconda, Salammbô’s veil, to the Skirt!
I may even be one of
those fools.
(translated
by Alan Marshfield)
(back)
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