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Michael R Burch Jan 2022
This is my modern English translation of Paul Valéry's poem “Le cimetière marin” (“The graveyard by the sea”). Valéry was buried in the seaside cemetery evoked in his best-known poem. From the vantage of the cemetery, the tombs seemed to “support” a sea-ceiling dotted with white sails. Valéry begins and ends his poem with this image ...

Excerpts from “Le cimetière marin” (“The graveyard by the sea”)
from Charmes ou poèmes (1922)
by Paul Valéry
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not, O my soul, aspire to immortal life, but exhaust what is possible.
—Pindar, Pythian Ode 3

1.
This tranquil ceiling, where white doves are sailing,
stands propped between tall pines and foundational tombs,
as the noonday sun composes, with its flames,
sea-waves forever forming and reforming ...
O, what a boon, when some lapsed thought expires,
to reflect on the placid face of Eternity!

5.
As a pear dissolves in the act of being eaten,
transformed, through sudden absence, to delight
relinquishing its shape within our mouths,
even so, I breathe in vapors I’ll become,
as the sea rejoices and its shores enlarge,
fed by lost souls devoured; more are rumored.

6.
Beautiful sky, my true-blue sky, ’tis I
who alters! Pride and indolence possessed me,
yet, somehow, I possessed real potency ...
But now I yield to your ephemeral vapors
as my shadow steals through stations of the dead;
its delicate silhouette crook-*******, “Forward!”

8.
... My soul still awaits reports of its nothingness ...

9.
... What corpse compels me forward, to no end?
What empty skull commends these strange bone-heaps?
A star broods over everything I lost ...

10.
... Here where so much antique marble
shudders over so many shadows,
the faithful sea slumbers ...

11.
... Watchful dog ...
Keep far from these peaceful tombs
the prudent doves, all impossible dreams,
the angels’ curious eyes ...

12.
... The brittle insect scratches out existence ...
... Life is enlarged by its lust for absence ...
... The bitterness of death is sweet and the mind clarified.

13.
... The dead do well here, secured here in this earth ...
... I am what mutates secretly in you ...

14.
I alone can express your apprehensions!
My penitence, my doubts, my limitations,
are fatal flaws in your exquisite diamond ...
But here in their marble-encumbered infinite night
a formless people sleeping at the roots of trees
have slowly adopted your cause ...

15.
... Where, now, are the kindly words of the loving dead? ...
... Now grubs consume, where tears were once composed ...

16.
... Everything dies, returns to earth, gets recycled ...

17.
And what of you, great Soul, do you still dream
there’s something truer than these deceitful colors:
each flash of golden surf on eyes of flesh?
Will you still sing, when you’re as light as air?
Everything perishes and has no presence!
I am not immune; Divine Impatience dies!

18.
Emaciate consolation, Immortality,
grotesquely clothed in your black and gold habit,
transfiguring death into some Madonna’s breast,
your pious ruse and cultivated lie:
who does not know and who does not reject
your empty skull and pandemonic laughter?

24.
The wind is rising! ... We must yet strive to live!
The immense sky opens and closes my book!
Waves surge through shell-shocked rocks, reeking spray!
O, fly, fly away, my sun-bedazzled pages!
Break, breakers! Break joyfully as you threaten to shatter
this tranquil ceiling where white doves are sailing!

*

“Le vent se lève! . . . il faut tenter de vivre!
L'air immense ouvre et referme mon livre,
La vague en poudre ose jaillir des rocs!
Envolez-vous, pages tout éblouies!
Rompez, vagues! Rompez d'eaux réjouies
Ce toit tranquille où picoraient des focs!”



PAUL VALERY TRANSLATION: “SECRET ODE”

“Secret Ode” is a poem by the French poet Paul Valéry about collapsing after a vigorous dance, watching the sun set, and seeing the immensity of the night sky as the stars begin to appear.

Ode secrète (“Secret Ode”)
by Paul Valéry
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The fall so exquisite, the ending so soft,
the struggle’s abandonment so delightful:
depositing the glistening body
on a bed of moss, after the dance!

Who has ever seen such a glow
illuminate a triumph
as these sun-brightened beads
crowning a sweat-drenched forehead!

Here, touched by the dusk's last light,
this body that achieved so much
by dancing and outdoing Hercules
now mimics the drooping rose-clumps!

Sleep then, our all-conquering hero,
come so soon to this tragic end,
for now the many-headed Hydra
reveals its Infiniteness …

Behold what Bull, what Bear, what Hound,
what Visions of limitless Conquests
beyond the boundaries of Time
the soul imposes on formless Space!

This is the supreme end, this glittering Light
beyond the control of mere monsters and gods,
as it gloriously reveals
the matchless immensity of the heavens!

This is Paul Valery’s bio from the Academy of American Poets:

Paul Valéry
(1871–1945)

Poet, essayist, and thinker Paul Ambroise Valéry was born in the Mediterranean town of Séte, France, on October 30, 1871. He attended the lycée at Montpellier and studied law at the University of Montpellier. Valéry left school early to move to Paris and pursue a life as a poet. In Paris, he was a regular member of Stéphane Mallarmé's Tuesday evening salons. It was at this time that he began to publish poems in avant-garde journals.

In 1892, while visiting relatives in Genoa, Valéry underwent a stark personal transformation. During a violent thunderstorm, he determined that he must free himself "at no matter what cost, from those falsehoods: literature and sentiment." He devoted the next twenty years to studying mathematics, philosophy, and language. From 1892 until 1912, he wrote no poetry. He did begin, however, to keep his ideas and notes in a series of journals, which were published in twenty-nine volumes in 1945. He also wrote essays and the book "La Soirée avec M. *****" ("The Evening with Monsieur *****," 1896).

Valéry supported himself during this period first with a job in the War Department, and then as a secretary at the Havas newspaper agency. This job required him to work only a few hours per day, and he spent the rest of his time pursuing his own ideas. He married Jeannie Gobillard in 1900, and they had one son and one daughter. In 1912 Andre Gide persuaded Valéry to collect and revise his earlier poems. In 1917 Valéry published "La Jeune Parque" ("The Young Fate"), a dramatic monologue of over five-hundred lines, and in 1920 he published "Album de vers anciens," 1890-1920 ("Album of Old Verses"). His second collection of poetry, "Charmes" ("Charms") appeared in 1922. Despite tremendous critical and popular acclaim, Valéry again put aside writing poetry. In 1925 he was elected to the Académe Francaise. He spent the remaining twenty years of his life on frequent lecture tours in and out of France, and he wrote numerous essays on poetry, painting, and dance. Paul Valéry died in Paris in July of 1945 and was given a state funeral.
Along with Paul Verlaine and Stéphane Mallarmé, Valéry is considered one the most important Symbolist writers. His highly self-conscious and philosophical style can also been seen to influence later English-language writers such T. S. Eliot and John Ashbery . His work as a critic and theorist of language was important to many of the structuralist critics of the 1960s and 1970s.

#VALERY #MRB-VALERY #MRBVALERY

Keywords/Tags: Paul Valery, French poem, English translation, sea, seaside, cemetery, grave, graves, graveyard, death, sail, sails, doves, ceiling, soul, souls, dance, sun, sunset, dusk, night, stars, infinity
Àŧùl Dec 2014
Española
Tratando de independencia
Nuestra fuerza se dañó
Pero no vamos a renunciar.

Deutsch
Der Versuch, die Unabhängigkeit
Unsere Kraft beschädigt wurde
Aber wir werden nicht aufgeben.

Francaise
Essayer pour l'indépendance
Notre vigueur a été endommagé
Mais nous ne allons pas abandonner.

English
Trying for independence
Our force got damaged
But we won't give up.
I am not a speaker of any of the three other languages, this is just another random product of my creative imagination.

My HP Poem #704
©Atul Kaushal
ev Sep 2014
Je veux ecriver une poème francaise
Parce que francais est le langue romantique
La France est le pays romantique
Les francais est les gens romantiques
Paris et la ville romantique
Je sais que c'est une grande cliché
Mais ce n'est pas
Paris
Je t'aime
Pour moi
C'est la France
Je t'aime
- ev

I want to write a french poem
Because is french is the romantic
language
France is the romantic country
Frenchmen is the romantic people
Paris is the romantic city
I know that it's a big cliche
But for me it isn't
Paris
I love you
For me
It's France
I love you
Jonny Angel Jul 2014
I'm perfectly fine
spewing my gutteral English,
but guys can dream.
How I'd love to speak nasally,
pronunciate just a bit
of high-Francaise.

Bonjour.

******!
Jonny Angel Apr 2014
The anejo-liquid
changed my dynamics,
& I threw caution to the wind,
embraced sin & anything
else that came my way.

I was a renegade in paradise,
had come there to play
& flirt with danger.
A euphoria crept over me,
it traveled throughout
my bloodstream,
& I became
another,
dreamt of being happier
& swallowed worms.

I squirmed for her,
the smiling *****,
the pretty stranger
who spoke Francaise
with the wrinkled smile,
while flashing icy-blue eyes,
she cried wolf.

As if on cue,
I became a locomotive,
she the caboose
& we snaked our way
out into the cool night
on fire.

We spoke the same language,
the one without words,
burnt candles in a semicircle
under the net,
relished each other madly.

Sadly, it had to end,
but I bet
she still thinks about it,
'cause I know I do.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
One has to be tough to
be old, but 122 is as
ancient as one can get.

Calment en Francaise,
is calm, as in Calmolive™
skin lubricant for over 100s.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2018
En France they celebrate
the end of WW1 once.

But, they get to celebrate
the ends of WW11 twice.

C'est logique.

Mais, imagine le troisieme
guerre mondial,

Hmm, des Francaise va faire
le pont!
Ryan O'Leary Jul 2018
I'm not afraid of The French,
or should I say the CC Seigneurs.

Capitulators dans le Nord
Collaborators dans le Sud.

But don't forget,
Gerard Royale
Sigourney's brother,
he put the bomb in
The Rainbow Warrior.

Car scratchers, des Francaise
at night, with a nail they will
get you.
KorbydAngyle Jan 2021
[note cuit can be acronym for coded user interface test or
a supposedly obsolete term for new wine boiled down]

I can Re- void
I emotions Run
Thorium arrives into the Re-murked
Subsisting dealt blazes Fortunes
Spells words announced Delusions
Baffled alights Under
Summons Cuit
Children
As you sit on bananas everywhere
A manticore kills your **** it *** face/ life
The arrival of the mystic soups 5 super spicy what else?
King jerold there's too much saint francaise this ****** *****
Yeah you're maybe a winey oven of fakeysz
Jailed money with a walkie talkie
Alphabet scores 2 more than antebellum
I can Re-void
Whiney delusional hate children will **** again.....

[look sorry i know this is pretty strange but when
i read it frankly it cracks me up]
Aditya Roy Mar 2019
Se sont sous vide
A french ramble
Parles vous francaise
Gatsu
Ryan O'Leary Jul 2018
La différence entre les épouvantails et les fonctionnaires Francaise
est, les épouvantails contribuent à la société, même quand ils
ne font rien.
Ryan O'Leary Mar 2021
Your tidal temperament is why
no doubt the French designated
you feminine, because you are
a cantankerous ***** like that
******* moon also La Lune (atic)

If you think the author of this
is a misogynist, then you need
to go and speak with the sailors
who were airlifted from a trawler
off the coast of Bantry in Ireland.

Or perhaps you should go and
talk to the gender assignment
department Paris at the Accademie
Francaise, those who it was decided
on La Rage, La Guerre, et La Peste !
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2022
God is not real
But She is the Better Story
Stephen King in Maine
Me in Baltimore

Grey day blues
Hard to concentrate
Star Trek tonight
Enterprise does soar

My son makes creme brulee
I like French cathedrals
No parlez vous Francaise
2024

          Ocean's pounding roar

                         Nice!
Ryan O'Leary Jun 2020
We concelebrated lunch at
the same tempo as a French
repas avec du vin rouge the
ultimate traffic light which
provides ample punctuation
for a well executed recipe.

Tout le monde mange trop
vite sauf des Francaise.

Because capitalism promotes
speaking and eating at the same
time while walking and listening
or driving not whistling, oh no,
pas possible avec a McDo.

Time i$ money talk i$ cheap
made in America land of the heap.
Qualyxian Quest Feb 2021
i'd like to die at twilight
'cause baby I would fade

deep blue to deep black

           stars

just happened?
or maybe made?

punishment medieval:
drawn and quartered
            or
her skin flayed

but ah! those French cathedrals
Chartres: parlez vous Francaise?
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2023
The hope is that God is patient and kind
The fear is predatory terror
A lot of chaos in my life
But I pray it is no error

Catteleya does calligraphy
Where there's a will there's a way
Paris on our honeymoon
Parlez vous Francaise?

Harold Crick and Ms. Pascal
Me and Susan Meek
Arapahoe, Navajo, Pequod
Shawnee, Iroquoise, Creek

              Still I Seek
Ryan O'Leary Mar 2020
Whispering in company
                       is bad manners, just as
yawning or sneezing, but
                   since the advent of Covid
19 this is no longer seen
                       as anti social behaviour
especially as people can
                   no longer pick their noses
in public due to it being
                 compulsory to wear masks
even if you are a Muslim
                 female in France where the
practice of their traditional
              and cultural Hijab was made
illegal by the Liberty Equality
               Fraternity resolution of 1789.

Ps.

Je deteste des Francaise.
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2020
Amateur: one who loves
We walk in Nice, no shoes or gloves
Detroit's Fox theater: Across the Border doves

                    Parlez vous Francaise?
Qualyxian Quest Nov 2020
I rode the train in Sweden
I rode one in Taipei

When that last nightrain comes
Death is on the way

Yes, I can still feel grateful
Though I don't know what to say

Just live boring, daily life
Get back to my sons someday

               un pequito Espanol
               I only wish Francaise

— The End —