Charleroi, Poem by Paul Verlaine

In the black grass
The Kobolds go.
The deep wind
Weeps, one wants to believe.

What then is felt?
The oats whistle.
A bush slaps
The eye of the passerby.

Rather hovels
Than houses.
What horizons
Of red forges!

So what is felt?
Stations thunder,
The eyes are amazed,
Where is Charleroi?

Sinister perfumes!
What is it?
What was rustling
Like sistrums?

Brutal sites!
Oh! your breath,
Human sweat,
Cries of metals!

In the black grass
The Kobolds go.
The deep wind
Weeps, one wants to believe.

Paul Verlaine

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-charleroi-paul-verlaine/