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Georges RODENBACH ! (1855-1898)
Les pièces d'eau, thinking in the taciturn
parks Les pièces d'eau, thinking in the taciturn parks,
In the large silent parks sown with lawn bowls,
Get bitter ; and have nothing left to deceive their sorrows
but a decal of the sky before the night mourning;
a gallant feast in mirrored clouds,
in clouds clothed in sulphur and pink
satin that come forward tied with ribbons and adorned
for some minuet or some apotheosis:
Clouds of the setting sun in soft falbalas;
Bulging aturbs, baskets on sharp hips,
Everything is seen among the cramped basins;
And the dead century lives again in the weary heart,
In the weary heart of the water that suddenly colours
itself And believes it sees beautiful ladies on its edges
The heart of the water of the water pieces remembers itself,
He who was thinking: "ah ! How long has it been since then,
the pretty time of fine bodices with ramages! "Now this time begins again and the water sees again
But for a short moment, the old and dear decor,
Souvenir which passes again at random from the clouds....
Because that's simply it, the memory:
An ephemeral mirage - a pity for things
that seem to return in our empty soul;
such as the sky in pink robes in the waterways!
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