Caligula – Second Song, Poem by Gérard De Nerval

With vermilion roses
Our fields are in bloom,
And the arm of the arbors
Holds out to our baskets
Its ripened grapes.

Since every year,
Casting to the winters
Its faded robe,
Is reborn crowned
With green foliage,

Since everything
Offers itself to our hand
That it may dispose of it,
Let us strip the rose,
Let us tread the grape;

For time presses us
With a constant urge;
Yesterday youth,
This evening old age,
And tomorrow death.

Strange mystery!
Each man in his turn
Passes solitary
A day on the earth;

But during that day,
With vermilion roses
Our fields are in bloom,
And the arm of the arbors
Holds out to our baskets
Its ripened grapes.

Gérard de Nerval

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

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