The Shadow

Poem by Victor Hugo Collection Les Rayons et les OmbresPeriod 19th century

XXXII

He was saying to her: — Your songs are sad. What troubles you?
Restless angel, what tears moisten your eyes so gentle?
Why, poor tender soul, inclined and faithful,
Like a reed the wind has bent with a stroke of its wing,
Bend your fair brow by moments darkened?
You must rejoice, for here is spring,
April, golden season, when, amid the zephyrs,
The perfumes, the songs, the kisses, the smiles,
And the charming words spoken in half-voices,
Love returns to hearts as the leaf to the woods! —
She answered him in her grave and gentle voice:
— Friend, you are strong. Sure of the God who drives you,
Your eye fixed on a goal, you walk straight and proud,
Without fear of tomorrow, without care of yesterday,
And nothing can disturb, for your enraptured soul,
The beautiful vision that hides life from you.
But I, I weep! — Gloomy, clinging to your steps,
Struck by all those blows you do not feel,
A heart made, less hope, in the image of yours,
I suffer in this world and you sing in the other.
Everything saddens me: the future I see in false light,
The sourness of reason quarreling with love,
And the bitter jealousy when another woman
Wants to draw from your eyes a look from your soul,
And the fate that strikes us and is never weary.
The more the sun shines, the more I am shadow, alas!
You go, I am; you walk, I tremble,
And while, forming a thousand plans together,

You seem to ignore, robust and gentle passer-by,
All the angles the world makes around us,
I drag myself after you, poor wounded woman.
Of a body still standing the shadow is sometimes broken.
March 1839.

Victor Hugo

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