Poem By Charles Vildrac

HOPING for nothing, to walk through the streets,
This is a better fate than men believe,
Because you can behold the passing by
Of all the pretty girls there are....

Hoping for nothing, to sail life,
Is all the same well worth the while,
Because of sunny moments, which
It is indeed delight to feel pass by.

Would you perceive that you are very happy,
If you were happy longer than an hour?
Is it not better to have but the power
Of loving with your eyes,
But one poor moment nape, and eyes,
And the mystery that flees with pretty feet
Of all the pretty girls there are?

Come, life is willing to be borne!
Earth is not yet so cold and worn,
And the rare minutes are not yet so rare
In which you tell yourself that life is fair,
In which, quite simply, you begin to live,
In the cool grass, in the warm sand,
Or when your whole mind to the joy you give
Of gathering with eyes the passing by
Of all the pretty girls there are....

translated by Jethro Bithell

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Other poems of VILDRAC

After Midnight

IT is at morning twilight they expire;
Death takes in hand, when midnight sounds,
Millions of bodies in their beds,
And scarcely anybody thinks of it ...

And Yet

NO water has abiding dwelling-place
Within one feeble hollow of the earth,
Which with the sky is face to face.
Let the noon glow, and the wind blow,


AT the black foot of trellises, by almond-branches shaded,
At the heart of corbeils, at the breast of bowers,
And all along the loam of avenues,
Are fallen faded,


HERE, before me, the lamp, the paper;
And behind me this troubled day
Passed in myself

An Inn

IT is an inn there is
At the cross-roads of Chétives-Maisons,
In the land where it is always cold.