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L'invitation au voyage (traduzione in Inglese)

Francese
Francese
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L'invitation au voyage

Mon enfant, ma sœur,
Songe à la douceur
D'aller là-bas vivre ensemble !
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble !
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
 
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
 
Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
Décoreraient notre chambre ;
Les plus rares fleurs
Mêlant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
À l'âme en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
 
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
 
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l'humeur est vagabonde ;
C'est pour assouvir
Ton moindre désir
Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
- Les soleils couchants
Revêtent les champs,
Les canaux, la ville entière,
D'hyacinthe et d'or ;
Le monde s'endort
Dans une chaude lumière.
 
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
 
Pubblicato da tsitpirctsitpirc 2014-11-22
Ultima modifica ScieraSciera 2016-08-31
traduzione in IngleseInglese
Allinea i paragrafi

Invitation to the Voyage

Versioni: #1#2#3#4#5#6
My daughter, my sister,
Consider the vista
Of living out there, you and I,
To love at our leisure,
Then, ending our pleasure,
In climes you resemble to die.
There the suns, rainy-wet,
Through clouds rise and set
With the selfsame enchantment to charm me
That my senses receive
From your eyes, that deceive,
When they shine through your tears to disarm me.
 
There'll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure,
With all things in order and measure.
 
With old treasures furnished,
By centuries burnished,
To gleam in the shade of our chamber,
While the rarest of flowers
Vaguely mix through the hours
Their own with the perfume of amber:
Each sumptuous ceiling,
Each mirror revealing
The wealth of the East, will be hung
So the part and the whole
May speak to the soul
In its native, indigenous tongue.
 
There'll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure,
With all things in order and measure.
 
On the channels and streams
See each vessel that dreams
In its whimsical vagabond way,
Since its for your least whim
The oceans they swim
From the ends of the night and the day.
The sun, going down, With its glory will crown
Canals, fields, and cities entire,
While the whole earth is rolled
In the jacinth and gold
Of its warming and radiant fire.
 
There'll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure
With all things in order and measure.
 
Grazie!
thanked 3 times
Pubblicato da Valeriu RautValeriu Raut 2015-01-02
Commenti dell’autore:

The translator is Roy Campbell, year 1952.

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