|
|
|
French Poems for Children
Guillaume Apollinaire (1880 - 1918)
Poems to Lou with English Translations
Amour-Roi
Amour-Roi
Dites-moi
La si belle
Colombelle
Infidele
Qu'on appelle
Petit Lou
Dites ou
Donc est-elle
Et chez qui
- Mais chez Gui
Translation:
King of Love
King of Love,
tell me--
the beautiful belle,
Colombelle,
who was untrue,
and is called
Little Wolf,
say where
is she now
and with whom?
--She's with Me!
--Translated by Maryke Cramerus ©2007
Note: explain that Apollinaire's first name is Gui, and that "Gui" in the last line refers to himself.
La nuit
La nuit
S'achève
Et Gui
Poursuit
Son rêve
Où tout
Est Lou
On est en guerre
Mais Gui
N'y pense guère
La nuit
S'étoile et la paille se dore
Il songe à Celle qu'il adore
Note: the rhyme scheme is abaabccdadaee
Translation:
Night
Night
ends
and Gui
pursues
his dream
where all
is Lou.
We are at war.
But Gui
ignores it.
Night
turns starry and straw turns to gold.
He thinks of She that he adores.
--Translated by Maryke Cramerus ©2007
Apollinaire For Older Children
Nuit rhénane
Mon verre est plein d’un vin trembleur comme une flamme
Écoutez la chanson lente d’un batelier
Qui raconte avoir vu sous la lune sept femmes
Tordre leurs cheveux verts et longs jusqu’à leurs pieds
Debout chantez plus haut en dansant une ronde
Que je n’entende plus le chant du batelier
Et mettez près de moi toutes les filles blondes
Au regard immobile aux nattes repliées
Le Rhin le Rhin est ivre où les vignes se mirent
Tout l’or des nuits tombe en tremblant s’y refléter
La voix chante toujours à en râle-mourir
Ces fées aux cheveux verts qui incantent l’été
Mon verre s’est brisé comme un éclat de rire
Rhenish Night
My glass is full of a wine tremulous like a flame
Listen to the slow song of the boatman
Who tells of having seen under the moon seven women
Wringing their green hair, so long it reaches their feet.
Stand up--sing louder--dance in a circle
So that I no longer hear the song of the boatman
And put around me all the blonde girls
With fixed stares and tightly braided plaits.
The Rhine, the Rhine is drunk where it mirrors the vineyards
All the gold of nights falls and trembling is reflected
The voice still sings like a death-rattle--
Those witches with green hair who enchant the summer
My glass broke like a burst of laughter.
--Translated by Maryke Cramerus ©2007
|About the Revolt|
|July 08 Poems|
|Satiric Poems|
|Political Poems|
|Brain and "Poetic"|
|Language Dethroned|
|British poets|
|Ovid's Love Poems|
|Ovid's Aurora: Model for Poets|
|Selected Poems|
|Children's Poems|
|Fall 2007 Issue|
|The Workshop|
|Apollinaire: Autumn|
|Apollinaire:Crocuses|
|Articles & Links|
|Children's Poems in French|
|Special Projects|
|Submission Guidelines|
|How to Submit|
|Contact us|
|
|
