Chaque année, nous avons vu
comment
le monde sombre
dans une argile riche, afin
de renaître.
Alors
pourquoi crier
aux pétales tombés sur le sol
de rester là,
quand on sait (et il faut le savoir)
combien la vitalité de ce qui a été, est soeur
de la vitalité de ce qui sera ?
Je ne dis pas
que c'est facile, mais
que faire d'autre
quand on prétend que l'amour que l'on porte au monde
est sincère ?
Alors, continuons, aussi joyeux que possible,
aujourd'hui, et que chaque jour croustille,
même si le soleil oscille vers l'est,
que les étangs sont froids et noirs,
et que les douceurs de l'année sont condamnées.
...
Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was, is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but what
else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
Mary Oliver (1938 - 2019) 2012, trad. Patrick Thonart, 2023
Je vous souhaite de continuer, joyeuses et joyeux,
en dépit de l'obscurité qui menace,
avec dans le coeur tout l'amour du monde.
Bonne année 2025 à toutes et à tous !
Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was, is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but what
else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was, is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but what
else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
