The Clown, Poem by Paul Verlaine

Poem by Paul Verlaine Collection Jadis et naguèreThemes SatirePeriod 19th century

Bobèche, farewell! good evening, Paillasse! back, Gilles!
Make way, aged buffoons, for the perfect jester,
Make way! most grave, most discreet and most haughty,
Here comes the master of all, the agile clown.

More supple than Harlequin and braver than Achilles,
It is indeed he, in his white satin armor;
Empty and clear as mirrors without backing,
His eyes do not live in his clay mask.

They gleam blue amid the greasepaint and the ointments,
While the head and the torso, elegant,
Sway on the paradoxical arc of the legs.

Then he smiles. Around him the stupid and ugly crowd,
The stinking and saintly rabble of the Iambes,
Acclaims the sinister histrion who hates it.

Paul Verlaine

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