Christ on the Mount of Olives, Poem by Gérard De Nerval

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

When the Lord, raising his thin arms to the sky
Beneath the sacred trees, as poets do,
Had long been lost in his mute sorrows,
And judged himself betrayed by ungrateful friends;

He turned toward those who awaited him below
Dreaming of being kings, sages, prophets…
But numb, lost in the sleep of beasts,
And he began to cry: “No, God does not exist!”

They slept. “My friends, do you know the news?
I have touched the eternal vault with my brow;
I am bloody, broken, suffering for many days!

“Brothers, I was deceiving you. Abyss! abyss! abyss!
The god is missing from the altar where I am the victim…
God is not! God is no more!” But they still slept!…

He resumed: “All is dead! I have traveled the worlds;
And I lost my flight in their milky paths,
As far as life, in its fertile veins,
Spreads golden sands and silvered waves:

“Everywhere the desert soil bordered by waters,
Confused whirlpools of agitated oceans…
A vague breath stirs the vagabond spheres,
But no spirit exists in these immensities.

“Seeking the eye of God, I saw only an orbit
Vast, black and bottomless, from which the night that inhabits it
Radiates upon the world and thickens evermore;

“A strange rainbow encircles this dark well,
Threshold of ancient chaos whose shadow is nothingness,
Spiral swallowing Worlds and days!

III

“Immobile Destiny, mute sentinel,
Cold Necessity!… Chance that, advancing
Among the dead worlds under eternal snow,
Cools, by degrees, the paling universe,

“Do you know what you are doing, original power,
With your extinguished suns, colliding with one another…
Are you sure of transmitting an immortal breath,
Between a world that dies and another reborn?…

“O my father! is it you I feel within myself?
Do you have power to live and to conquer death?
Would you have succumbed under a final effort

“Of that angel of the nights struck by the anathema?…
For I feel all alone in weeping and suffering,
Alas! and, if I die, it is that everything will die!”

No one heard the eternal victim moan,
Giving to the world in vain all his overflowing heart;
But ready to faint and leaning without strength,
He called the only one – awake in Solyma:

“Judas! he cried to him, you know what I am valued at,
Hurry to sell me, and finish this bargain:
I am suffering, friend! on the earth laid low…
Come! O you who, at least, have the strength of crime!”

But Judas was going away, displeased and pensive,
Finding himself poorly paid, full of remorse so keen
That he read his dark deeds written on all the walls…

At last Pilate alone, who watched for Caesar,
Feeling some pity, turned by chance:
“Go fetch this madman!” he said to the guards.

It was indeed he, this madman, this sublime fool…
This forgotten Icarus who climbed back to the heavens,
This Phaethon lost under the thunderbolt of the gods,
This beautiful Atys bruised whom Cybele revives!

The augur questioned the flank of the victim,
The earth grew drunk on this precious blood…
The stunned universe tilted on its axles,
And Olympus for an instant tottered toward the abyss.

“Answer! cried Caesar to Jupiter Ammon,
What is this new god that is imposed on the earth?
And if he is not a god, he is at least a demon…”

But the oracle invoked had forever to fall silent;
Only one could explain this mystery to the world:
– He who gave a soul to the children of clay.

Gérard de Nerval

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-christ-on-the-mount-of-olives-gerard-de-nerval/