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Happy the traveler whom his beloved city
Sees return to port, in the first fires of day!
Who greets at once the sky and his homeland,
Life and happiness, the sun and love!
— Look, companions, a ship comes forward.
The sea, which bore it away, brings it back in rhythm,
Foaming beneath it, like a bold steed,
Which, even as it rears, feels its old rider.
Hail! whoever you are, you whose white sail
From this wide horizon comes rushing, palpitating
Happy, when you return, if your wandering star
Has made you love the shore! happy if you are awaited!
Where do you come from, beautiful ship? on what distant shore,
Superb leviathan, have you washed your flanks?
Are you wounded, warrior? Do you come from a long voyage?
It is a thing to see, when a whole crew,
Put to sea young, returns with white hair.
Are you a hive? do you come from India or Mexico?
Is your keel heavy, or have the north winds
Taken from you, as your ransom, the weight of your treasure?
Have you braved the lightning and passed the tropic?
Have you, for two years, walked upon death,
Brooding with a haggard eye over your trembling compass,
So that a European woman, a pale indolent one,
Might perfume her bath with the scents of the seraglio
And crush in the waltz a necklace of coral?
How the heart leaps when the native land,
At the moment of return, begins to draw near,
And emerges from the vast Ocean with its bell tower!
And what divine torment in that short interval,
Where one feels it arriving and that one is about to touch it!
O homeland! O homeland! ineffable mystery!
Sublime and terrible word! inconceivable love!
Was man then born only for a corner of earth,
To build his nest there, and to live there a day?
Le Havre, September 1855.
Alfred De Musset
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-return-alfred-de-musset/