Rue des Beaux-Arts n ° 78- Janvier – Février – Mars 2022
Voici la traduction française de quelques passages .
The City of the Soul I In the salt terror of a stormy sea There are high attitudes the mind forgets ; And undesired days are hunting nests To snare the souls that fly Eternity . But we being gods will never bend the knee , Though sad moons shadow every sun that sets , And tears of sorrow be like rivulets To feed the shallows of Humility . (…)
IV Each new hour ’ s passage is the accolyte Of inarticulate song and syllabe , And every passing moment is a bell , To mourn the death of undiscerned delight . Where is the sun that made the noon-day bright , And where is the midnight moon ? O let us tell , In long carved line and painted parable , How the white road curves down into the night .
Only to build a crystal barrier Against the sea which beats upon our days : To ransom one last moment with a rhyme Of passionate protest or austere demur , To clutch Life ’ s hair , and thrust one naked phrase
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