For the weekend, here are two poems by an author Normand, famous for his love of weird things ...
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| Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly by Emile Levy / DR |
Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly, the dandy Valognes The author of sulfur "Diabolique", was also a loving, sensitive women and nature .....
We are all complex characters ... who can say that we really know ......
"Oh! eyes adored
to Clara.
Oh! the eyes adored are not those who saw
That loved - then we all die in there!
The sweetest dreams are those that did not
Two people, heart to heart and arm in arm!
Joys most dear to our soul satiated
Do not weep for those that they left ;
But the most beautiful love that we had in life
From the heart are never out!
They are there, live there, had there. - The Years
fall upon them in vain. They are believed missing,
Lost, destroyed, at the bottom of destiny! ...
Fate And it is they who seemed to be more!
It has ten times since they liked. - Youth
A cast, sumptuous and burning - and Time
Bring a winter evening by the hand, Old Age,
Who We take it! the flanks!
But we thought these terraced slopes without injury
have one since they breathe, alas!
a stroke poorly supported, slight scratch,
Who has not healed, but not bleeding!
It was nothing ... the fold of these first flowers
That crashed in the spring on the heart, when it boils ...
Ah! in this heart how much he spent!
But nothing left ... that was it!
We never spoke ... Never, never anyone
Did know that under a fold of our hearts hiding,
As a English fly in the bottom of an anemone,
An unnamed feeling that nothing detached!
It was not the love expressed ending
In arms that we love and hate in turn.
It was not love, it was not a dream ...
But it was much better than love !
And in all those loves that bloom life
And under all the happiness that can intoxicate,
We have always found this madness,
In which the heart has nothing to compare!
And we have suffered over the strange empire
In this dream tenacious - and vague - but the winner,
And into your arms, Clara, that sweet Vampire
came and sat on my heart.
You can not guess what was in my soul ...
You were in my front crown of your arm,
And your other hand that I was paying its flame
You felt my heart that when you, you were not!
You were looking to see you there, dear girl lost,
You said: "You're quiet, my beloved, what have you ? ... "
I had nothing, Clara - but, my poor beloved
It this nothing-there that I saw!
He stood up straight, that nothing in my mind.
It was a ghost ... face uncertain ...
But fond memories of our soul abused
The strongest is always, always the farthest!
Perspective ardent heart that devours,
The past shines over backwards for us ...
And the most beautiful day is a spectrum of dawn,
Who comes prowling the skies!
And thou hast been, the spectrum of an aurora,
whose radius s not for me 'extinguished Never!
But you, the day my eyes, I love my Clara,
You have not deleted this other than I loved!
A star hovering over seas overwhelmed
is reflected in their waves and laughs of their struggles ...
How then do we need women owned
To assert that we did not ...? "
************** *******
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| Waterlily, Claude Monet, 1906, |
"Water Lilies
At Baroness H. B.
lilies white, O lily of clear water,
Snow amount on the substance of their azure
Who, sleeping on your rods wet
Do need to sleep, bed pure
Flowers modesty, yes! you are too proud
To let you pick ... and life after.
white lilies, sleep on your rivers,
I do not pluck!
lilies white, O flower water dreamy
If you dream, so what are you dreaming? ...
to dream because it must be love,
must have taken heart ... or jealous
But you, O flower that bathes and protects the water,
For you dream ... suck it fresh!
White lilies, sleep in your snow!
I do not pluck!
Lilies white flowers of water numb
Whose whiteness cold hearts with ardent
Who you dive into your waters détiédies
When the sun shines, white lilies!
Stay hidden coves of the river,
In the mists, beneath the thick willows ...
Flowers of God you are the last!
I do not pluck! "
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