Elegiac Stanzas

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

This stream, whose trembling water
Reflects the brightness of the skies,
Seems in its brilliant course
To sparkle with a thousand fires;
While at the bottom of its peaceful bed,
Where, down an imperceptible slope,
Slowly its waves flow on,
It drags along an impure mire
That with bitterness and defilement
Poisons its waters everywhere.

Likewise a passing delirium,
A swift and joyful flash
Half-opens my lips to a smile,
And gaiety shines in my eyes;
Yet my soul is ice,
And nothing will efface the trace
Of the misfortunes that have struck me down.
In vain my youth will pass,
Always importunate sadness
Will swell my oppressed heart.

For there is a dark cloud,
A memory wet with tears,
That weighs on me and spreads its shadow
Over my pleasures and my sorrows.
In my profound indifference,
The sting of joy or of suffering
Cannot stir me;
The goods that the common crowd envies
May perhaps embellish my life,
But nothing will give me back hope.

From the trunk half detached
By the breath of black autumn winds,
When the withered branch
Sees again the fair days of spring,
If sometimes a wandering ray,
Straying over its barren head,
Comes to glisten on its naked boughs,
It smiles at the light;
But the verdure of spring
Will never be reborn upon its brow.

Gérard de Nerval

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