Here, There . . . Like A Dead Leaf


Chanson d’automne
~ Paul Verlaine

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.

Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure

Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.

Translation here.

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4 responses to “Here, There . . . Like A Dead Leaf

  1. I’m glad you liked the poem. I couldn’t find the translation that I remember from when I first encountered Verlaine’s poem and wasn’t happy with any of the ones I found in my searches yesterday — either they were too true to the French but lost the melancholic tone or they were too stylized and lost the the sense of the French version. When spoken in good French (the accent I hear in my head, not the one that leaves my lips!) the poem can sound like the long sad strains of a violin.

  2. I thought the photo was just magic. The poem makes it perfect!

  3. What an absolutely beautiful poem!! My French isn’t that good, so I looked up the English translation. It is as touching as the original version – heart wrenching.
    “The long sobs
    Of the violins
    Of Autumn
    Wound my heart
    With a monotonous
    Languor.”
    Thank you so much. I doubt I would ever have found this poem otherwise. Now it will join my poetry collection. Blessings.