Birth of the word is by agony molded,
Through earthly life it is quietly going,
It is a stranger, which drinks from the golden
Pitcher the drops of the savagesâ?? mourning. ...
I know: to the trees, but not to us,
Perfection of the life is given, whole.
And on the Earth â?? the sister of the stars â??
We live in exile, while they do at home. ...
In the days when the God eternal
Was declining face to the new world,
By the Word they stopped the sunâ??s inferno,
And destroyed the towns by the Word. ...
Pluviôse, irrité contre la ville entière,
De son urne à grands flots verse un froid ténébreux
Aux pâles habitants du voisin cimetière
Et la mortalité sur les faubourgs brumeux.
Mon chat sur le carreau cherchant une litière
Agite sans repos son corps maigre et galeux;
L'âme d'un vieux poète erre dans la gouttière
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