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The poet goes off in the fields, he admires... :

The poet goes off in the fields, he admires
Victor Hugo
translated by gib

rhyming Alexandrin couplets (AA BB ... )

The poet goes off in the fields; he admires
He worships; he listens to a lyre within himself;
And seeing him come, the flowers, all the flowers,
Those that make the ruby's colors pale,
Those that would eclipse even a peacock's tail,
Little golden flowers, little flowers in blue,
Take, to welcome him waving their bouqets,
Slightly forward airs or great coquettish manners,
And familiarly, for this is the way of beauties:
"Look! It's our lover passing by," they say.
And full of light and shadow and confused voices,
The great, profound trees that live in the woods,
All those old men, the yews, the limes, the maples,
The stooping willows, the venerable oaks,
The elm with its black branches, weighed down by moss,
Like ulemas, when the mufti appears,
Make great shows of greeting him, bent down to the ground,
Their heads of leaves and beads of ivy,
Contemplate the serene glow on his face,
And murmur softly: "It's him! It's the dreamer!"

Drawn from Contemplations: I (Aurora): II - Le poete s'en va dans les champs; il admire
Copyright Geoffrey Barto, 2002

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