Misfortune pierced my old heart with its spear.
The blood of my old heart made one crimson gush
Then evaporated on the flowers, in the sun.
Shadow blew my eyes out, a cry came to my mouth,
And my old heart died in a bitter shiver.
Then rider Misfortune came closer,
Set foot and his hand touched me.
His iron-gloved finger entered my wound
As he certified his law with a harsh voice.
And then at the icy touch of his iron finger
A heart was being reborn in me, a whole heart pure and proud.
And then, fervent with divine candour,
A whole young and good heart was beating in my chest.
Yet, I stayed there trembling, incredulous a bit,
Like a man who sees visions of God.
But the good rider, back on his beast,
While riding away nodded to me
And cried to me (I still hear that voice):
"At least, take care! For it is all right this time."
Wisdom, by Paul Verlaine by Régis Gronoff est mis à disposition selon les termes de la licence Creative Commons Paternité - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modification 3.0 Unported.
Les autorisations au-delà du champ de cette licence peuvent être obtenues à http://bluedusk.blogspot.com/.
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