To Béranger

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

Ode

Songs, that was his entire life!
Like a vaporous mist,
The breath animated by envy
Glided over his generous heart.
Always his dearest hope
Dreamed of the happiness of France;
Always he respected the laws…
But hatreds are implacable,
And on the bench of vile culprits
Virtue sometimes sits.

What has he done? Why proscribe him?
Ah! it is still for songs:
Courage! stifle satire,
Instead of listening to its lessons.
When a turbulent sect,
Raising its threatening head,
Defies sovereign decrees,
You remain mute, without vengeance,
And you use power
Only to fight refrains…

O Béranger! cherished muse!
You whose voice always unites
The memory of the homeland
With the memory of your loves,
Tender friend, sublime poet,
Of the jealous power that oppresses you
Your noble songs will be victorious;
For they speak of our glory,
And, like a tale of victory,
They made our hearts beat.
One day will come, France moved
Will do justice to your virtues;
We will see your statue rise…
But then you will no longer be!

For a poet, on the earth
Must struggle against misery
And odious detractors,
Until the day when, breaking his chains,
Right comes to end his sorrows
And place him in the rank of the gods.

But we whom his delirium charmed
When he sang of liberty,
Let us hasten, children of the lyre,
Let us outrun posterity.
To celebrate our poet,
To place flowers on his head,
Let us not wait until he has lived…
If in the struggle that begins
His fate must be slavery,
Let us all repeat: Glory to the vanquished!

Gérard de Nerval

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

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