Exile, Poem by Victor Hugo

If I could see, O fatherland,
Your almond trees and your lilacs,
And tread your flowering grass,
Alas!

If I could, — but, O my father,
O my mother, I cannot,
Take as my pillow your stone,
Alas!

In the cold coffin that confines you,
If I could speak to you in whispers,
My brother Abel, my brother Eugène,
Alas!

If I could, O my dove,
And you, mother, who took flight,
Kneel upon your tomb,
Alas!

Oh! toward the lonely star,
How I would raise my arms!
How I would kiss the earth,
Alas!

Far from you, O dead whom I mourn,
From black waters I hear the knell;
I would like to flee, but I remain,
Alas!

Yet fate, hidden in the shadow,
Is mistaken if, counting my steps,
It believes that the old somber walker
Is weary.

Victor Hugo

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-exile-victor-hugo/