The Last Resting Place

Poem by Charles-Nérée Beauchemin Collection ArrayPeriod 19th century

I return to you, O native parish.
Intimate homeland where my heart has stayed;
Before entering the icy night,
I come to knock at your enchanted threshold.

Land of love, in vain I made the journey
To greet your blue sky once more,
My eye grows moist and all my flesh trembles,
I come to bid you an eternal farewell.

Oh! lay me in the blessed tomb,
In a discreet corner of the old enclosure.
Here, I come to seek my last resting place,
I come here to seek calm and rest.

O holy ground! open to me your asylum,
Near my own, until the day of the great awakening,
I shall sleep as in a tranquil bed,
My last dream and my last sleep.

Charles-Nérée Beauchemin

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

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