Coelestia fata
Globe petrifie, lepreux et froid – la Lune
Errant, defunte, au ciel, roule son infortune
Vous perirez ainsi, Jupiter et Neptune
Mercure, Uranus, Mars, ainsi vous perirez
Et toi, Saturne, effroi des esprit timore
Et toi, Venus, temoin des coeurs enamoures
Et tu mourras aussi, nourrice auguste o Terre
Le vieux Soleil, melancolique et solitaire
Luira sur le neant du monde planetaire
Sur les tombeaux errants des peuples abolis
Des grands peuples drapes au linceul des Oublis
Au linceul noir dont rien n’agitera les plis….
Ironie … ou seront a cette heure, planetes
Vos arbres verts? Vos fiers palais? Vos grandes poetes?
Vos conquerants? Vos Astartes? Vos proxénètes?
Ou vos savants ployés au faix de leurs cerveaux?
Ou vos tresors de vie exuberante? Ou vos
Zephyrs dont flottait l’aile et par monts et par vaux?
Plus rien .. mais le Soleil vieillissant, malitorne
Dardant son oeil igné par l’espace sans borne
Verra de ses fils morts errer le Cercueil morne
Lors, evoquant l’orgueil des siècle radieux
Ou sa posterite peuplait les vastes cieux
Le soleil maudira la cruaute des dieux
Puis, aieul attriste que l’abandon torture
Lui-meme refroidi, vetant l’écorce obscure
(Tels autrefois Venus, et la Terre, et Mercure)
Le Soleil, a son tour fleuri, vivant encore
Continuera son vol effaré de condor
Aveugle – par le ciel fourmillant d’astres d’or
|
Coelestia fata
Petrified Globe, leprous and cold - the Moon
Wandering defunct in heaven, rolling her misfortune
And you will perish, too Jupiter and Neptune
Mercury, Uranus, Mars, and you will perish
And you, Saturn, terror of the timid mind
And you, Venus, witness of enamoured hearts
And you will die too, august nanny o Earth
The old Sun, melancholy and lonely
Will shine upon the death of the planetary world
On the stray tombs of extinct peoples
Great nations draped in a shroud of Forgetfulness
A Black shroud in which nothing disturbs the folds ....
Irony ... where will be, at this hour, planets,
Your green trees? Your proud palaces? Your great poets?
Your conquerors? Your Astartes? Your procurers?
Where your sages testing their minds?
Where your treasures of a life exuberant? Where your
Zephyrs which floated on wings over hill and dale?
No more .. but the Sun older, malformed
Darting his fiery eye over unbounded space
Sees his dead sons roam the bleak Coffin
When, evoking the pride of glorious centuries
When his forebears peopled the vast heavens
The sun will curse the cruelty of the gods
Then sad ancestor of abandoned torture
Himself cooled, enrobed in murky bark
(As were once Venus, and Earth, and Mercury)
The Sun, in his flowery tower, still alive
Will continue his terrifying condor flight
Blinded – by the sky teeming with golden stars
|