European Elegies/Autumn (1)/Autumn dirge
14.AUTUMN DIRGE
Autumn begins
With violins
Of lament,
Wounding my breast
With dull, oppressed
Discontent.
With violins
Of lament,
Wounding my breast
With dull, oppressed
Discontent.
Roused by the shocks
Of stricken clocks
From pale sleep,
I think upon
Sweet nights now gone;
And I weep.
Of stricken clocks
From pale sleep,
I think upon
Sweet nights now gone;
And I weep.
And my heart flies
Down wailing skies,
In my grief
Blown here and there
As down night air
The dead leaf.
Down wailing skies,
In my grief
Blown here and there
As down night air
The dead leaf.
From the French of Paul Verlaine.
(By permission of Albert Messein, Paris.)