Le Pont Mirabeau par Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)
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 londre 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
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
I think this poem has a very nostalgic quality to it, for those of us, well, for anyone really, who has lived somewhere, and who has had to leave prematurely, or without really wanting to leave. I know it has this "love story" theme running through it, but taking that out. Well, hell, why take it out? There's so much love in the hood, here. So yeah, time passes, people come and go, love comes and goes, and he keeps saying, "je demeure," or "i remain." Remain locked in this time, guarding a certain feeling, love; but love, I think love is the most fleeting of feelings. I think we try so hard to capture it, and once we do, we try so hard to keep it within us, but it slips away and again, we remain. Do we realize when it has left us? Or do we keep holding on to the memories, hoping that the memories will have will bring back the same feelings?
I dont know. OH. I just realized I didn't get a translation. Ok, go find on. I know you can. Do it. DO IT.
LOVE (because I have a lot of it to offer), Ranna
1 comment:
totally had to memorize this poem.
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