Unit 1 · poem · alexandrin · 11 lines
French
Source lines 1-9
En lui, pauvre orphelin, j'avais un tendre père ;
Son nom est le premier qu'enfant j'ai bégayé !
Dans le frêle berceau de cet âge prospère,
C'était lui qui cherchait mon regard égaré.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Sa mort, depuis cinq ans, a courbé mon front triste ;
Soldat aventureux, il fut un noble artiste,
Les roses d'Orient embaumaient ses discours.
Dans mon cœur eussent germé ces graines envolées.
English
No translation for source lines 1-9.
Source lines 10-11
Ombre chère ! acceptez leurs fleurs étiolées,
Car leur calice est plein de regrets et d'amour.
English · verified range
Verified range
In him, poor orphan, I had a tender father;
His name is the first that as a child I stammered!
In the frail cradle of that prosperous age,
It was he who sought my wandering gaze.
. . . . . . . . . . .
His death, five years ago, has bowed my sad brow;
An adventurous soldier, he was a noble artist,
The roses of the Orient perfumed his discourse.
In my heart these windblown seeds would have germinated.
Dear shade! accept their etiolated flowers,
For their chalice is full of regrets and love.