Robert Desnos

Robert Desnos – Never anyone but you

irlandesuk poésie, poetry, translation

Never anyone but you, despite the stars and the loneliness
Despite nightfall’s mutilated trees
Never anyone but you will continue on the path that’s mine
The further you go, the longer your shadow grows
Never anyone but you will salute the sea at dawn
when, weary of wandering, out from the dark forests
and the nettle thickets and I’ll walk towards the foam
Never anyone but you will lay her hand on my brow and on my eyes
Never anyone but you, and I reject lies and infidelity
This anchored ship, you can sever its mooring
Never anyone but you
The caged eagle slowly gnaws at the corroded copper bars
What an escape!
It’s Sunday, signalled by the song of nightingales in the tender green woods,
the boredom of little girls in the presence of a cage where a canary flits around,
while in the lonely street,
the sun slowly cast its thin lines across the warm pavement.
We will cross other lines,
Never, never anyone but you,
And me alone, alone, alone like the withered ivy in suburban gardens, like glass alone,
And you, never anyone but you.

Robert Desnos

translation by John Lyons

Jamais d’autre que toi

Jamais d’autre que toi en dépit des étoiles et des solitudes
En dépit des mutilations d’arbre à la tombée de la nuit
Jamais d’autre que toi ne poursuivra son chemin qui est le mien
Plus tu t’éloignes et plus ton ombre s’agrandit
Jamais d’autre que toi ne saluera la mer à l’aube quand fatigué d’errer moi sorti des forêts ténébreuses et des buissons d’orties je marcherai vers l’écume
Jamais d’autre que toi ne posera sa main sur mon front et mes yeux
Jamais d’autre que toi et je nie le mensonge et l’infidélité
Ce navire à l’ancre tu peux couper sa corde
Jamais d’autre que toi
L’aigle prisonnier dans une cage ronge lentement les barreaux de cuivre vert-de-grisés
Quelle évasion !
C’est le dimanche marqué par le chant des rossignols dans les bois
vert tendre l’ennui des petites filles en présence d’une cage où s’agite un serin, tandis que dans la rue solitaire le soleil lentement déplace sa ligne mince sur le trottoir chaud
Nous passerons d’autres lignes
Jamais jamais d’autre que toi
Et moi seul seul seul comme le lierre fané des jardins de banlieue seul comme le verre
Et toi jamais d’autre que toi.

Robert Desnos – Love is not dead

irlandesuk poetry, translation

No, love’s not dead in this heart nor in these eyes nor in this mouth
which was announcing its ongoing funeral.
Listen, I’ve had enough of the picturesque, of colours and charm.
l love love, its tenderness and its cruelty.
My love has but one name, one shape.
Everything passes. Mouths press to this mouth.
My love has but one name, one shape.
And if some day you remember it
O you, my love’s shape and name,
One day on the high seas between America and Europe,
When the sun’s last flourish scintillates upon the undulating
surface of the waves, or maybe one stormy night
beneath a tree in the countryside, or in a fast car,
One spring morning on boulevard Malesherbes,
One rainy day,
At dawn before you go to bed,
Tell yourself that you shouldn’t regret things: Ronsard before me
and Baudelaire sang of the regret of old women and dead women
who despised love’s purest form.
You when you’re dead
You’ll still be a beauty and desirable.
I’ll already be dead, entirely enclosed within your immortal body,
within your stunning image ever present amongst
the perpetual wonders of life and eternity, but if I live
Your voice and its accent, the beam of your eyes
Your scent and the scent of your hair and many other things
will live on inside me,
In me who am neither Ronsard nor Baudelaire,
I who am Robert Desnos and whom, having known and loved you,
Are just as worthy as them.
I who am Robert Desnos, for loving you
And who wants to attach no other reputation
to my memory on the contemptible earth

Robert Desnos

From À la mystérieuse, (1926)

Translation by John Lyons