Français
The Death of the Poor
C’est la Mort qui console, hélas ! et qui fait vivre ;
C’est le but de la vie, et c’est le seul espoir
Qui, comme un élixir, nous monte et nous enivre,
Et nous donne le cœur de marcher jusqu’au soir ;
It is Death that consoles--yea, and causes our lives;
'Tis the goal of this Life--and of Hope the sole ray,
Which like a strong potion enlivens and gives
Us the strength to plod on to the end of the day.
'Tis the goal of this Life--and of Hope the sole ray,
Which like a strong potion enlivens and gives
Us the strength to plod on to the end of the day.
À travers la tempête, et la neige, et le givre,
C’est la clarté vibrante à notre horizon noir ;
C’est l’auberge fameuse inscrite sur le livre,
Où l’on pourra manger, et dormir, et s’asseoir ;
And all through the tempest, the frost and the snows,
'Tis the shimmering light on our black sky-line;
'Tis the famous inn which the guide-book shows,
Whereat one can eat, and sleep, and recline;
'Tis the shimmering light on our black sky-line;
'Tis the famous inn which the guide-book shows,
Whereat one can eat, and sleep, and recline;
C’est un Ange qui tient dans ses doigts magnétiques
Le sommeil et le don des rêves extatiques,
Et qui refait le lit des gens pauvres et nus ;
'Tis an angel that holds in his magic hands
The sleep, which ecstatic dream commands,
Who remakes up the beds of the naked and poor;
The sleep, which ecstatic dream commands,
Who remakes up the beds of the naked and poor;
C’est la gloire des Dieux, c’est le grenier mystique,
C’est la bourse du pauvre et sa patrie antique,
C’est le portique ouvert sur les Cieux inconnus !
'Tis the fame of the gods, 'tis the granary blest,
'Tis the purse of the poor, and his birth-place of rest,
To the unknown Heavens, 'tis the wide-open door.
'Tis the purse of the poor, and his birth-place of rest,
To the unknown Heavens, 'tis the wide-open door.