Paul Verlaine, ‘Dans l’interminable’ (1874)
Here’s one of the poems from Verlaine’s Romances sans paroles (1874). That slim volume is divided into four sections, the first of which (where this poem is located, titled simply ‘8’) is called Ariettes oubliées, ‘forgotten arias’, ‘forgotten music’. Debussy later composed actual music for these poems, or some of them: his song-cycle of the same name was first performed in 1887. I’ve had a go, with what success you must judge, at rendering this one into English. I’ve altered Verlaine’s abba/abab rhyme-scheme to an easier-to-wrangle abcb, which is a shame; but otherwise I’ve tried to cleave as closely as possible to the original.
Dans l’interminable
Ennui de la plaine,
La neige incertaine
Luit comme du sable.Le ciel est de cuivre
Sans lueur aucune,
On croirait voir vivre
Et mourir la lune.Comme des nuées
Flottent gris les chênes
Des forêts prochaines
Parmi les buées.Le ciel est de cuivre
Sans lueur aucune,
On croirait voir vivre
Et mourir la lune.Corneille poussive
Et vous les loups maigres,
Par ces bises aigres
Quoi donc vous arrive?Dans l’interminable
Ennui de la plaine,
La neige incertaine
Luit comme du sable.— — —
In the interminable
boredom of the land
the uncertain snow
shines like sand.The sky is copper
no light of her own,
we’d see the living
and dying of the moon.Like the clouds
floating in grey, oak
forests nearby
hang like smoke.The sky is copper
no light of her own,
we’d see the living
and dying of the moon.Crow, you wheezer,
you lean wolves too,
when the bitter wind comes on
what will you do?In the interminable
boredom of the land
the uncertain snow
shines like sand.
