Pont Mirabeau
A Fernand Fleuret.
Ouvrez-moi cette porte où je frappe en pleurant
La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe
Tu regardais un banc de nuages descendre
Avec le paquebot orphelin vers les fièvres futures
Et de tous ces regrets de tous ces repentirs
Te souviens-tu
Vagues poissons arqués fleurs surmarines
Une nuit c'était la mer
Et les fleuves s'y répandaient
Je m'en souviens je m'en souviens encore
Un soir je descendis dans une auberge triste
Auprès de Luxembourg
Dans le fond de la salle il s'envolait un Christ
Quelqu'un avait un furet
Un autre un hérisson
L'on jouait aux cartes
Et toi tu m'avais oublié
VOYAGER
to Fernand Fleuret
Open up can't you hear me crying at your door
Life rises and runs away like the tides of Euripe
You watched the clouds roll in
Aboard the orphan steamer with fevers off the bow
With all of your regrets and your if onlys
Do you remember
Waves flying fish anemones
A night that was the sea
Receiver of every river
I remember I always remember
An evening I went down to a cheap hotel
Near Luxembourg
At the back of the parlor Christ was rising
Someone had a ferret
Somebody had a hedgehog
A card game was going on
And you'd forgotten me
[The Paris Review]
La Chanson du Mal-Aimé
A Paul Léautaud.
Et je chantais cette romance
En 1903 sans savoir
Que mon amour à la semblance
Du beau Phénix s'il meurt un soir
Le matin voit sa renaissance.
[Tôi hát bản tình ca này
Vào năm 1903, không biết rằng, tình tôi
Giống như Phượng Hoàng
Chết buổi chiều trước
Tái sinh sáng sau]
Un soir de demi-brume à Londres
Un voyou qui ressemblait à
Mon amour vint à ma rencontre
Et le regard qu'il me jeta
Me fit baisser les yeux de honte
Song of the poorly loved
One foggy night in
A hoodlum who resembled so
My love came marching up to me -
The look he threw me caused my eyes
To drop and made me blush with shame.
[TLS]
Một tên du côn giống người yêu của tôi
Tới gặp tôi
Cái nhìn của hắn làm tôi cúi đầu vì hổ thẹn.
Thơ Mỗi Ngày
Le Pont Mirabeau {French} by Guillaume Apollinaire (1)
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine.
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine.
English Translation
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
Must I recall
Our loves recall how then
After each sorrow joy came back again
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
Hands joined and face to face let's stay just so
While underneath
The bridge of our arms shall go
Weary of endless looks the river's flow
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
All love goes by as water to the sea
All love goes by
How slow life seems to me
How violent the hope of love can be
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken
Neither time past
Nor love comes back again
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
LE PONT MIRABEAU
Under Eads Bridge over the Mississippi at Saint Louis
Flows the Seine
And our past loves.
Do I really have to remember all that again
And remember
Joy came only after so much pain?
Hand in hand, face to face,
Let the belfry softly bong the late hour.
Nights go by. Days go by.
I'm alive. I'm here. I'm in flower.
The days go by. But I'm still here. In full flower.
Let night come. Let the hour chime on the mantel.
Love goes away the way this river flows away.
How violently flowers fade. How awfully slow life is.
How violently a flower fades. How violent our hopes are.
The days pass and the weeks pass.
The past does not return, nor do past loves.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.
Hand in hand, standing face to face,
Under the arch of the bridge our outstretched arms make
Flows our appetite for life away from us downstream,
And our dream
Of getting back our love of life again.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.
Cors de chasse
Notre histoire est noble et tragique
Comme le masque d'un tyran
Nul drame hasardeux ou magique
Aucun detail indifferent
Ne rend notre amour pathétique
Et Thomas de Quincey buvant
L'opium poison doux et chaste
A sa pauvre Anne allait revant
Passons passons puisque tout passe
Je me retournerai souvent
Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent
Apollinaire: Alcools
CORS DE CHASSE
Our story is noble and tragic
As the face of a tyrant not fun not for everyone
No drama or magic
No detail of what we've done
Can make our love pathetic
And Thomas De Quincey drinking
Opium poison sweet and chaste
Went dreaming to his poor Ann and listened to his own eyelids blinking
Let it pass let it pass because everything will pass and be effaced
I will be back not yet erased
Memories
Are hunting horns whose sound dies in the breeze
Tù và săn
Chuyện chúng mình thì phong nhã và bi thương
Như cái mặt nạ của tên bạo chúa
Chẳng bi kịch, phiêu lưu hay thần kỳ
Chẳng chi tiết, dửng dưng
Có thể làm cho cuộc tình của chúng ta thống thiết
Gấu chơi xì ke,
Dịu dàng và trong trắng
Mơ màng nhớ BHD
Thôi bỏ đi, bỏ đi Tám
Mọi chuyện đều qua đi
Gấu sẽ thường quay trở lại
Kỷ niệm
thì giống như tiếng tù và săn
Lặng dần trong gió
Les Fiancailles
À Picasso
J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arrière
Les cadavres de mes jours
Marquent ma route et je les pleure
Les uns pourrissent dans les églises italiennes
Ou bien dans de petits bois de citronniers
Qui fleurissent et fructifient
En même temps et en toute saison
D'autres jours ont pleuré avant de mourir dans des
tavernes
Ou d'ardents bouquets rouaient
Aux yeux d'une mulâtresse qui inventait la poésie
Et les roses de l'électricité s'ouvrent encore
Dans le jardin de ma mémoire
FROM "LES FIANCAILLES"
to Picasso
I have had the courage to look back
At the dead bodies of my days
They litter the roads I've taken and I miss them
That's me rotting in so many Italian churches
And in the nearby lemon groves
Which flower and produce little lemons
Also and in every season
Other days died weeping late at night in a bar
Where bouquets of dazzle spun around
In the eyes of a mulatto woman who invented poetry
The roses of electricity open even now
In the garden of my memory
- Translated from French by the Editors
Le Pont Mirabeau {French} by Guillaume Apollinaire (1)
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine.
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine.
English Translation
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
Must I recall
Our loves recall how then
After each sorrow joy came back again
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
Hands joined and face to face let's stay just so
While underneath
The bridge of our arms shall go
Weary of endless looks the river's flow
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
All love goes by as water to the sea
All love goes by
How slow life seems to me
How violent the hope of love can be
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken
Neither time past
Nor love comes back again
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
Let night come on bells end the day
The days go by me still I stay
LE PONT MIRABEAU
Under Eads Bridge over the Mississippi at Saint Louis
Flows the Seine
And our past loves.
Do I really have to remember all that again
And remember
Joy came only after so much pain?
Hand in hand, face to face,
Let the belfry softly bong the late hour.
Nights go by. Days go by.
I'm alive. I'm here. I'm in flower.
The days go by. But I'm still here. In full flower.
Let night come. Let the hour chime on the mantel.
Love goes away the way this river flows away.
How violently flowers fade. How awfully slow life is.
How violently a flower fades. How violent our hopes are.
The days pass and the weeks pass.
The past does not return, nor do past loves.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.
Hand in hand, standing face to face,
Under the arch of the bridge our outstretched arms make
Flows our appetite for life away from us downstream,
And our dream
Of getting back our love of life again.
Under the Pont Mirabeau flows the Seine.
Note: Bản dịch tiếng Anh, ngay trên, là của ban biên tập tờ The Paris Review số Mùa Thu 2012
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