This is not churned out of my head its just what I read and liked.. and I am sharing it here.
It's a French Poem, though I did not understand French but I read its English translation.. so I am posting both of them, First the French and then the English version:
It's a French Poem, though I did not understand French but I read its English translation.. so I am posting both of them, First the French and then the English version:
Les Roses de Saadi
by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
J'ai voulu ce matin te rapporter des roses ;
Mais j'en avais tant pris dans mes ceintures closes
Que les noeuds trop serrés n'ont pu les contenir.
Les noeuds ont éclaté. Les roses envolées
Dans le vent, à la mer s'en sont toutes allées.
Elles ont suivi l'eau pour ne plus revenir.
La vague en a paru rouge et comme enflammée.
Ce soir, ma robe en est toute embaumée.
Respires-en sur moi l'odorant souvenir
The Roses of Saadi
I wanted you to have roses this morn,
And stuffed a lot of them in my snug dress,
In my tight belt I could not all shoehorn.
The knots gave way, and threw them all around,
To wind and sea they were all gone forlorn
To flow with water, never will come round.
The waves were crimson red as if on fire.
This eve my dress is drenched in their fragrance,
Breathe it and keep it to your heart's desire.
Translated by Thomas D. Le
by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
J'ai voulu ce matin te rapporter des roses ;
Mais j'en avais tant pris dans mes ceintures closes
Que les noeuds trop serrés n'ont pu les contenir.
Les noeuds ont éclaté. Les roses envolées
Dans le vent, à la mer s'en sont toutes allées.
Elles ont suivi l'eau pour ne plus revenir.
La vague en a paru rouge et comme enflammée.
Ce soir, ma robe en est toute embaumée.
Respires-en sur moi l'odorant souvenir
The Roses of Saadi
I wanted you to have roses this morn,
And stuffed a lot of them in my snug dress,
In my tight belt I could not all shoehorn.
The knots gave way, and threw them all around,
To wind and sea they were all gone forlorn
To flow with water, never will come round.
The waves were crimson red as if on fire.
This eve my dress is drenched in their fragrance,
Breathe it and keep it to your heart's desire.
Translated by Thomas D. Le
1 comment:
It seems like the French poets have this thing about tragedy. :) Although even a breath of that familiar fragrance is yearned for. Just don't tie the belt too tight... sometimes the blowing wind lifts the mood up.
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