But What! It Is Too Much Sung…

Poem by Théodore Agrippa D'Aubigné Period 16th century

But what! it is too much sung, we must turn our eyes
Dazzled by rays to the pathway of the skies.
It is done, God comes to reign, of all prophecy
The period is seen at this point fulfilled.
The earth opens its breast, from the belly of the tombs
Are born from the buried new faces:
From meadow, from wood, from field, from almost every place
Come forth new bodies and new faces.
Here the foundations of castles raised up
By the resurrected are swiftly pierced through;
Here a tree feels in the arms of its root
A living head swarming, a breast emerging;
There the troubled water boils, and then scattering
Feels within itself hair and an awakening head.
Like a swimmer coming up from the depth of his dive,
All come out of death as one comes out of a dream.
The bodies once torn apart by tyrants
Are in a moment joined together in their bodies,
Though an arm may have sailed through the foaming sea
From burned Africa to chilly Thule.
The ashes of the burned fly from every side;
The bits sooner united than they were scattered
Come to their stake, in this happy place
Laughing at the sky laughing with a pleasant boldness.

Théodore Agrippa d’Aubigné

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-but-what-it-is-too-much-sung-theodore-agrippa-d-aubigne/