Поль Верлен (Paul Verlaine) (1844-1896)
французский поэт-импрессионист, один из основоположников импрессионизма и символизма

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Перевод стихотворения Nevermore на английский язык.

Nevermore

Remembrance, remembrance, what wouldst thou? The autumn
Thrust on languid airs is sadly blown,
And the sun's wan rays monotonously thrown
On yellowing fields where weary winds make moan.

She and I were alone, walking and dreaming,
Our hair and our thoughts in the wind over-bold.
Suddenly she turned toward me, her soft eyes gleaming,
"Which was your happiest day?" said her voice of pure gold

With its timbre angelic, sonorous and sweet.
And the smile that I gave for reply was discreet
As the kiss that I gave her white hand in devotion.

— Ah! The first flowers and their perfume one sips!
And the low sound with its charming emotion —
The first "yes" that comes from well-beloved lips.

Nevermore

Remembrance, what wilt thou with me? The year
Declined; in the still air the thrush piped clear,
The languid sunshine did incurious peer
Among the thinned leaves of the forest sere.

We were alone, and pensively we strolled,
With straying locks and fancies, when, behold
Her turn to let her thrilling gaze enfold,
And ask me in her voice of living gold,

Her fresh young voice, "What was thy happiest day?"
I smiled discreetly for all answer, and
Devotedly I kissed her fair white hand.

—Ah, me! The earliest flowers, how sweet are they!
And in how exquisite a whisper slips
The earliest "Yes" from well-beloved lips!

Nevermore

Souvenir, souvenir, que me veux-tu ? L’automne
Faisait voler la grive à travers l’air atone,
Et le soleil dardait un rayon monotone
Sur le bois jaunissant où la bise détone.

Nous étions seul à seule et marchions en rêvant,
Elle et moi, les cheveux et la pensée au vent.
Soudain, tournant vers moi son regard émouvant :
« Quel fut ton plus beau jour ! » fit sa voix d’or vivant,

Sa voix douce et sonore, au frais timbre angélique.
Un sourire discret lui donna la réplique,
Et je baisai sa main blanche, dévotement.

— Ah ! les premières fleurs qu’elles sont parfumées !
Et qu’il bruit avec un murmure charmant
Le premier oui qui sort de lèvres bien-aimées ! 

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