ON A POPULAR MAN.
O people! beneath this skull where nothing has entered,
Beneath the august brow, morose and revered,
Of the tribune and the cenobite,
Beneath that forehead from which one day revolutions,
Opening it, will make the visions come forth,
A dreadful thought dwells.
In India thus sometimes the curious passerby
Contemplates with respect a mysterious mount,
Summit touched by the clouds,
Dreams and believes he breathes, without drawing too near,
In these rocks, in these waters, in these mournful forests,
A hidden divinity.
The interior of the mount is sculpted as a pagoda.
Then at last comes the day of solemnity.
The walled door is broken open.
The people rush up uttering tumultuous cries; —
The idol then, a blind and monstrous fetus,
Comes out of the disemboweled mountain.
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-on-a-popular-man-victor-hugo/
