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Contents
Posts
The Conquerors – A French Poem about Columbus’ Voyage
Tuesday, October 7th, 2008In my last blog post, I mentioned how Columbus’ voyage is not always seen in a positive light. Earlier in the week, I had posted two poems that were positive towards Columbus (one called In 1492, Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue and the other, a Spanish poem called To Christopher Columbus). Here’s one that is not so favourable. It was written by a Cuban-born French poet named José-Maria de Heredia (1842-1905).
Monique Palomares of Mama Lisa’s World en français sent this poem to me. She learnt it in France in the 8th grade. Below you’ll find it in the original French, followed by an English translation done by Monique Palomares, Lisa Yannucci (yours truly) and Jason Pomerantz. Yes, this was a tough poem to translate! It took the three of us to finally come up with a version that was understandable, yet true to the original meaning. Hope you enjoy reading it (whatever your stand on Columbus is)…
Les conquérants
(French)Comme un vol de gerfauts hors du charnier natal,
Fatigués de porter leurs misères hautaines,
De Palos de Moguer, routiers et capitaines
Partaient, ivres d’un rêve héroïque et brutal.Ils allaient conquérir le fabuleux métal
Que Cipango* mûrit dans ses mines lointaines,
Et les vents alizés inclinaient leurs antennes
Aux bords mystérieux du monde Occidental.Chaque soir, espérant des lendemains épiques,
L’azur phosphorescent de la mer des Tropiques
Enchantait leur sommeil d’un mirage doré ;Ou penchés à l’avant des blanches caravelles,
Ils regardaient monter en un ciel ignoré
Du fond de l’Océan des étoiles nouvelles.The Conquerors
(English Translation)Like a flight of gyrfalcons*, from the charnel house of their native land,
Tired of bearing their haughty miseries,
From Palos to Moguer**, captains and mercenaries
Embarked, wild with a heroic and brutal dream.They voyaged to conquer the famous metal***,
Produced by Japan**** in its distant mines,
As trade winds stretched their tentacles
Over the mysterious rim of the Western world.Every night, as they hoped for epic tomorrows,
The phosphorescent blue sky of the Tropical sea
Enchanted their sleep with a golden mirage;Leaning on the bows of the white caravels,
They gazed on new stars rising in an unknown sky,
From the far end of the Ocean.*A “gyrfalcon” is the largest breed of falcons. They’re from the Artic region. This word (gerfauts) is used in French for poetic reasons (it sounds exotic). The average French person doesn’t know about gyrfalcons unless s/he’s an ornithologist or learned this poem at school.
**Palos is the port that Christopher Columbus departed from.
Moguer is a Spanish town that helped prepare for Columbus’ trip.
In the middle of the 16th century, some chroniclers who’d never been there thought Moguer and Palos were one only town while they’re actually two towns distant by 10km (about 6 miles). Other people didn’t check and used the name “Palos de Moguer” to mean the port Columbus departed from. This poem is an example of this confusion.
***Meaning ‘Gold’.
****In French it says “Cipango” (meaning the country of gold). It’s the first name Europeans gave to Japan. Japan was believed to have large amounts of gold.
A Mother’s Day Poem That Kids Recite in France
Monday, May 5th, 2008Soon it’ll be Mothers’ Day in France. This year it’s on May 25th. Usually teachers have their students learn a poem. One they often select is by Pierre Gamarra and is called Je te souhaite – I Wish You…
You can click on the link above to read the French version. Monique Palomares of Mama Lisa’s World en français sent me this English translation:
I Wish You…
I wish you a day of velvet,
Of iris, of lily and periwinkle,
A day of leaves and branches,
A day and then another day…A day of wheat, a day of vines,
A day of figs, of Muscat grapes,
A day of delicate grapes,
A day of doves, of swans…I wish you a day of diamonds,
Of sapphire and of china,
A day of lilac and of wool,
A day of silk, oh my mommy!And yet another day,
Light, light, another day
Till the end of my love,
A dawn and then a dawn.For my love for you, my mother,
Can never end,
Like the shaking of the trees
Like the sky, like the sea…To all you moms out there, wherever you’re celebrating Mother’s Day this year, enjoy!
Mama Lisa
Many thanks to Monique Palomares for sharing this poem with us!
Check out this following link if you’re looking for more poems in French about Mother’s Day and/or Father’s Day (in French only).
If you would like to share any Mother’s Day or Father’s Day poems or songs from your land, please email me. -Lisa
PS
Here are some other posts about Mother’s Day, including other poems:
Mrs. Mouse Trots – A Poem that French Students Start Learning in Kindergarten
Thursday, November 29th, 2007The other day I wrote about how French students learn poetry by heart. Monique, who was a first grade teacher in France for many years wrote:
French students start learning poetry by heart in first grade – which is 6 years old and often earlier! Dame souris trotte (Mrs. Mouse Trots) is often taught in kindergarten. Some teachers teach it as early as 4-5 year old preschool (but they usually take out the 2nd verse).
Below is Dame souris trotte by Paul Verlaine. My English translation follows the French version.
Dame souris trotte
Dame souris trotte
Noire dans le gris du soir ,
Dame souris trotte ,
Grise dans le noir .On sonne la cloche :
Dormez les bons prisonniers ,
On sonne la cloche ,
Faut que vous dormiez .Un nuage passe ,
Il fait noir comme en un four ,
Un nuage passe ,
Tiens le petit jour !Dame souris trotte ,
Rose dans les rayons bleus ,
Dame souris trotte ,
Debout paresseux !Mrs. Mouse Trots
Mrs. Mouse trots
Black in the gray dusk,
Mrs. Mouse trots
Gray in the darkness.The bell sounds…
The good prisoners sleep.
The bell sounds…
You should sleep.A cloud passes,
The sky’s opaque,
A cloud passes,
Look daybreak!Mrs. Mouse trots,
Pink in blue sunbeams,
Mrs. Mouse trots,
Get up, you lazy!Monique said that many of the poems at a site called Poemes are used by French teachers. She had her students memorize poem #44 called Pomme et poire at that site.
-Mama Lisa
Many thanks to Monique Palomares, of Mama Lisa’s World en français, for sharing more about the teaching of poetry in French grade school with us.
“Chanson d’Automne” – Autumn Song – A Poem by Verlaine
Monday, November 26th, 2007Here is one last poem about Autumn before I focus on the topic of the upcoming December holiday season.
I came upon this poem while looking for French podcasts to brush up on my French in anticipation of a trip to France in the Spring. There’s a whole podcast in French devoted to this poem that you can listen to. It inspired me to come up with my own translation, which you can read below.
Chanson d’Automne is a very sad poem that was written by Paul-Marie Verlaine in 1866. Most French people are familiar with this poem as it’s taught in school. French children are often required to learn it by heart.
Chanson d’Automne
Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur
Monotone.Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.Autumn Song
The long tears
Of Autumn’s
Violins
Wound my heart
With a monotonous
lethargy.All suffocating
And pale when
The hour strikes,
I remember
The old days
And I cry…And I am going away
On an ill wind
That carries me
Here, there,
Just like a
Dead leaf.Follow the link to hear Chanson d’Automne recited
Midnight Crime Time Animation
Sunday, October 28th, 2007Previously, I talked about a poem called Crime Time, that I learned from my friend Monique of Mama Lisa’s World en français. It’s great to recite to your kids or students for Halloween. I’ve been saying it to my kids over the past week. My 1st grade daughter learned it and started reciting it back. My middle school aged son also enjoyed hearing it.
Here’s a funny animation of the poem, set to my recording. (There’s also an animation of Monique reciting it in French.) Here it is:
Now that my daughter has seen the animation, she acts it out just like in the animation, though with a spoon. It’s hilarious!
-Mama Lisa
Here’s a Fun, Lightly, Spooky “Poem” to Recite to Kids at Halloween Time or Just for Fun…
Monday, October 22nd, 2007Monique from France taught me this one. She used to say it to her 1st grade students and they would ask her to say it again (even years later). It’s slightly scary, but has a funny ending. I translated it into English. It would work translated into other languages too. It could be a fun one to recite to your kids or students at Halloween time.
Below you’ll find it in English, with a recording I did for you so you can hear how to recite it. Beneath that you can read it in French and also hear Monique of Mama Lisa’s World en français reciting it for you in French.
In a scary voice say:
Midnight, the time of the crime,
A man, a knife in his hand…Then nonchalantly say:
Spreads butter on
A slice of bread.Here it is in French:
Minuit, l’heure du crime…
Un homme, un couteau à la main,
étalait du beurre
sur une tartine de pain.Many thanks to Monique for sharing this “poem” with us!
-Mama Lisa
Spring Is Here! Go Away Winter, You Brute!
Wednesday, March 21st, 2007Now that Spring is here – we can all smile – and start bad-mouthing Winter!
Here’s a poem about banishing Winter, called Winter, You’re Just a Brute! Well, that’s my translation of it. It’s originally French. The title in French is Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! It was written by Charles d’Orléans (1394-1465).
Below you’ll find my English translation first, followed by a modernized French version, followed by the original poem. At the end you’ll find a link where you can hear the poem recited in French.
Winter, You’re Just a Brute!
Winter, you’re just a brute!
Summer is pleasant and nice,
As proof, May and April,
Who accompany it evening and morn.Summer adorns fields, woods and flowers,
In its coat of greenery
And of many other colors,
By the order of Nature.But you, Winter, are too full
Of snow, wind, rain and hail;
You must be banished into exile,
Without flattering, I speak fairly,
Winter, you’re just a brute!Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain !
(A Modernized Version in French)Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain !
Eté est plaisant et gentil,
En témoin de Mai et d’Avril,
Qui l’accompagnent soir et matin.Eté revêt champs, bois et fleurs
De sa livrée de verdure,
Et de maintes autres couleurs,
Par l’ordonnance de Nature.Mais, vous, Hiver, trop êtes plein
De neige, vents, pluie et grésil.
On vous dût bannir en exil,
Sans point flatter, je parle plain,
Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain.Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain
(Original Version with Older French Spelling)Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain,
Esté est plaisant et gentil,
En tesmoing de May et d’Avril
Qui l’acompaignent soir et main.Esté revest champs, bois et fleurs,
De sa livrée de verdure
Et de maintes autres couleurs,
Par l’ordonnance de Nature.Mais vous, Yver, trop estes plain
De nege, vent pluye et grezil;
On vous deust banie en essil.
Sans point flater, je parle plain,
Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain !
Link to hear Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! RecitedLink to Hear Hiver, vous n’êtes qu’un vilain ! Sung
A French Poem called “Le Printemps” or “Springtime”
Sunday, March 19th, 2006I asked Monique of Mama Lisa’s World en français, if she could recommend any well-known French songs or poems about the Spring. She wrote:
Here is a poem we often teach the students, called Le Printemps by Théophile Gautier (1811 – 1872)…
Le Printemps
par Théophile GautierRegardez les branches
Comme elles sont blanches,
Il neige des fleurs.Riant de la pluie
Le soleil essuie
les saules en pleurs.Et le ciel reflète
Dans la violette
Ses pures couleurs…La mouche ouvre l’aile
Et la demoiselle
Aux prunelles d’or,
Au corset de guêpe
Dépliant son crêpe,
A repris l’essor.L’eau gaiement babille,
Le goujon frétille
Un printemps encore !Monique and I prepared this English translation for you…
Springtime
By Théophile GautierLook at the boughs,
How white they are,
It’s snowing flowers!Scoffing at the rain,
The sun dries
The weepy willow.And the sky reflects
In the violets
Its pure colors…The fly opens its wings
And the dragonfly
With the golden pupils,
And the wasp-like corset,
Unfolding its silky wings,
Has resumed its flight.The water happily babbles,
The tiny fish wriggles
It’s Springtime again!Come visit the Mama Lisa’s World France page for French children’s songs with their English translations and…
Mama Lisa’s World en français for children’s songs around the world with their French translations.
In France, Children read a poem for Armistice Day (the end of WWI)
Thursday, November 10th, 2005By Monique Palomares
November 11th, the end of WW I: it’s a public holiday in France. In every town, there’s a civil ceremony. The mayor, and one or more of the deputy mayors, place flowers at the war memorial. Each town has its own ceremony, even VERY small ones. The mayor tells the names of the soldiers killed during the war, and after each name, someone answers back “Dead for France”. Their names are carved on the memorials. The ceremonies used to include WW I Veterans that we call “Les Poilus”, meaning “The Hairy Ones”, because in the trenches, they finally stopped shaving themselves. But there were only 6 of them on 10/27/05.
Usually, the fifth graders of the towns’ schools attend the ceremony with their teachers: they’re sometimes the ones answering back the mayor’s call, and they sing the national anthem. Sometimes, they recite a poem. One of them is often chosen, it’s Le dormeur du val written by Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891) in October 1870 (during the war between France and Germany).
Here’s Le Dormeur du val in French and with an English translation…
Le dormeur du val
C’est un trou de verdure où chante une rivière
Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons
D’argent; où le soleil de la montagne fière,
Luit; C’est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.Un soldat jeune bouche ouverte, tête nue,
Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est étendu dans l’herbe, sous la nue,
Pale dans son lit vert où la lumière pleut.Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant comme
Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme:
Nature, berce-le chaudement: il a froid.Les parfums ne font plus frissonner sa narine;
Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au coté droitHere’s an English translation by Lisa Yannucci…
The Sleeper in the Valley
There’s a recess in the greenery, where the river sings
Tangling wildly in the tattered grass
Silvery; where the sun from the proud mountain
Glimmers; It’s a little valley that sparkles with light.A young soldier, mouth open, head bare,
And nape bathing in the cool blue cresses
Sleeping; he’s spread out on the grass, under the clouds,
Pale on his green bed where the light rains down.Feet in the gladiolas, he sleeps. Smiling like
A sick child would smile, he dozes.
Warmly lull him Nature, he’s cold.The scents no longer make his nose quiver
He sleeps in the sun, hand on his chest
Tranquil, he has two red holes on his right side.Here’s a site with English translations of other Rimbaud Poems
________
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