V LES CYGNES Dans le bassin voyez glisser deux cygnes blanches Leur col est comme un luth, leur aile comme un chant Qui s'ouvre. Au fond du flot, les cygnes qui se penchent Voient que glisse l'ondin de rêve, doux - méchant- Méchant car il a su que les cygnes tremblantes Lorsqu'un bel étranger admire leur candeur Frémissent, et dressant au ciel leurs âmes, chantent, Comme si sur le chant s'envolait leur splendeur. L'ondin, beau comme un lys, par les roseaux complices, S'en vint, et dans sa main brillait le fil d'argent Qui devait ramener, belles de leur supplice, Les cygnes qui miraient leur blancheur en nageant. Il les a ramenées, sauvages prisonnières, Le couteau dans sa main chanta: la tête chut. Tandis qu'au ciel montait une blanche prière, Le col aux doigts sanglants se tordit comme un luth. Michel Galiana (c) 1991

V THE SWANS Look on that pond those two white swans gliding along! Their necks are like a lute, their wings like music seem That rises. The swans see in the depths of the pond A dream water sprite swim who is mild -who is mean- Who is mean, for he knows that the shuddering swans, When a handsome stranger beholds their white feather Quiver, and raising to the skies their souls, will chant, As if, with their song, would soar up all their splendour. The bright water sprite came through the treacherous reeds Concealing in his hand the gleaming silver wire That was designed to catch, after fair agonies, The fair swans that swam and mirrored their white attire. And he caught them and they were his wild prisoners. The knife sang in his hand: their heads have fallen, mute. Whilst to heaven arose immaculate prayers, The necks, in gory hands wrung, have become a lute.

Transl. Christian Souchon 01.01.2004 (c) (r) All rights reserved

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