THE RESURRECTION OF DREAMS.

It is as warm as when the lilacs' scent

Is with the fragrance of magnolias blent,

When you can hear the seeds crack in the ground,

When first your face and hands are summer-browned

When every now and then in heavy drops

The rain begins, and all as sudden stops....

Slate and rust clouds voluptuously mass

Their bulk o'er the green corn and nibbled grass

Of fields that billow to yon purpled woods,

Which, through bronzed clouds, a sheaf of sunbeam floods.

Sweating, I climb the slope, where, like a long

White ribbon, runs the brook and sings his song.

A noisy cock pursues a clucking hen.

A sparrow flies with bits of hay. And then

Such is the silence you can hear from far,

Where the red roof-tiles of the village are,

The heavy, steady humming of the bees ...

(Can there be blossoms on the willow-trees?)

Here is the wood.--Pale with surprise you see

The ardent silence and the mystery

Whose sap swells in the branches which it studs

With downy catkins and with sticky buds.

Under the elm-trees' violaceous shade

The fresh anemones have snowed the glade;

The undergrowth bathes in a fawn half-light;

The pure air crackles with a lizard's flight;

And there, where on the hazel bough is poured

A ray of sunshine darted like a sword,

A trembling cloud of yellow pollen rises....

And now mysterious mirth my heart surprises

With words and cries of love and tenderness,

And an intoxicated glow and stress,

Because the spring with legendary dyes,

The white of snow and blue of Paradise,

And tender green of leaves all dewy sprent,

With nightingales, and honeysuckle's scent,

And chafers hanging heavily from blue

Lilacs, wet with rosy diamonds too,

With the clear crystal and mad pearls that gush

Out of the beak of quail and pairing thrush,

All the divine, forgotten spring reminds

My heart of ardours where the pathway winds!...

I love! My breast is full of flowers and birds!

I shall break out in ecstasy of words!

I love!--But whom?--I care not whom nor how!

I love, with all my blood in frenzy now,

And all the sighs that heave my breast, the maid

Who smiling comes beneath her cool sunshade....

Contemporary Belgian Poetry Selected and Translated by Jethro Bithell · 第 105 / 232 题