Titre: L'Isolement
Poète: Alphone de Lamartine (1790-1869)
Recueil: Méditations poétiques (1820)
Title: Loneliness.
Poet: Alphonse de Lamartine (1790-1869)
Collection: Poetic Meditations (1820)
The poem below came from here. As one might expect of a Romantic poem, its narrator pines for a lost lover. The most important line in the poem, "Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé !" is also the most difficult to translate. Word by word, it means "A sole being you lack, and all is depopulated," which sounds hideous in English but fits with the rhyme in French. I ultimately decided to write, "You lose just one person, and the rest disappear." Interestingly, the term dépeupler (to depopulate) also refers to the death of fish in ponds or trees in a forest, not just people. Whatever the case, the word suggests that when the narrator loses this lover, the world becomes barren and pointless as if nobody else were there (or any life at all?).
Finally, I did everything I could to retain the integrity of the lines, so I translated line-by-line rather than sentence-by-sentence. I also sought to retain as much of the original word order as possible to avoid inadvertently altering any nuances that Lamartine folded into the word order.
I intend to translate more poems from this website's compilation of best known French poems because this type of cultural knowledge is particularly useful when traveling or talking to people.
English Translation:
Often on the mountain, in the shadow of the old oak,
At sunset, I sit sadly;
My glances randomly scan the plain;
Whose changing scene unfolds at my feet.
Here rumbles the river with its foaming waves;
It meanders and sinks into an obscure distance;
There the immobile lake extends its dormant waters
Where the evening star rises in the azure.
At the summit of these coronated mounts of somber wood,
Twilight still throws a final ray,
And the vaporous chariot of the queen of shadows
Climbs and already whitens the edges of the horizon.
Yet, soaring from the Gothic spire,
A religious sound propagates through the air:
The traveler stops, and the rustic clock
With the final sounds of the day mixes with the saintly concerts.
But to these soft scenes my indifferent soul
Feels before them neither charm nor transport;
I consider the earth like a wandering shadow
The sun of the living no longer warms the dead
From hill to hill in vain, despite my view
From the south to the north, from dawn to dusk
I traverse all of the points of the immense expanse
And I say: “Nowhere does happiness await me.”
What do these valleys, these palaces, and these rustic cottages do for me,
Vain objects whose charm, for me, is vanished?
Rivers, rocks, forests, solitudes so dear,
You lose just one person, and the rest disappear.
Whether the circuit of the sun either starts or ends,
With an indifferent eye, I follow its progression;
In a sky somber or clear, whether it sleeps or wakes,
What does the sun matter? I expect nothing of the days.
Even if I could follow it in its vast course,
Everywhere my eyes would see void and deserts:
I desire nothing of all that it illuminates;
I demand nothing from the immense universe.
But perhaps above the border of its sphere,
Places where the true sun illuminates other skies,
I could leave my corpse on the earth,
And that which I so dreamed about would appear before my eyes!
There, I would be intoxicated at the spring where I drink,
There, I would rediscover hope and love,
And this great ideal that my whole soul desires,
And that which has no name in this terrestrial sojourn.
What can I not do, carried on the chariot of the dawn?
Vague object of my ardent desires, I hurry toward you!
Why do I still rest on the earth of exile?
There is nothing in common between the earth and myself.
When the leaf of the forest falls in the prairie,
The wind of the night rises and snatches it from the valleys,
And me, I resemble the withered leaf:
Carry me off, like the leaf, thundery Winds!
___________
Souvent sur la montagne,
à l'ombre du vieux chêne,
Au coucher du soleil, tristement je m'assieds ;
Je promène au hasard mes regards sur la plaine,
Dont le tableau changeant se déroule à mes pieds.
Often on the mountain,
in the shadow of the old oak,
At sunset, I sit sadly;
My glances randomly scan the plain;
Whose changing scene unfolds at my feet.
Ici gronde le fleuve aux vagues écumantes ;
Il serpente, et s'enfonce en un lointain obscur ;
Là le lac immobile étend ses eaux dormantes
Où l'étoile du soir se lève dans l'azur.
Here rumbles the river
with its foaming waves;
It meanders and sinks into an obscure distance;
There the immobile lake extends its dormant waters
Where the evening star rises in the azure (of the sky).
Au sommet de ces monts couronnés de bois sombres,
Le crépuscule encor jette un dernier rayon ;
Et le char vaporeux de la reine des ombres
Monte, et blanchit déjà les bords de l'horizon.
At the summit of these coronated
mounts of somber wood,
Twilight still throws a final ray,
And the vaporous chariot of the queen of shadows
Climbs and already washes the edges of the horizon.
Cependant, s'élançant de la flèche gothique,
Un son religieux se répand dans les airs :
Le voyageur s'arrête, et la cloche rustique
Aux derniers bruits du jour mêle de saints concerts.
Nevertheless, soaring
from the gothic spire,
A religious sound propagates through the air:
The traveler stops, and the rustic clock
With the final sounds of the day mixes with the saintly concerts.
Mais à ces doux tableaux mon âme indifférente
N'éprouve devant eux ni charme ni transports ;
Je contemple la terre ainsi qu'une ombre errante
Le soleil des vivants n'échauffe plus les morts.
But to these soft scenes my indifferent soul
Feels before them neither charm nor transport;
I consider the earth like an errant shadow
The sun of the living no longer warms the dead
De colline en colline en vain portant ma vue,
Du sud à l'aquilon, de l'aurore au couchant,
Je parcours tous les points de l'immense étendue,
Et je dis : " Nulle part le bonheur ne m'attend. "
From hill to hill in
vain despite my view
From the south to the north, from dawn to dusk
I traverse all of the points of the immense expanse
And I say: “Nowhere does happiness wait
for me.”
Que me font ces vallons, ces palais, ces chaumières,
Vains objets dont pour moi le charme est envolé ?
Fleuves, rochers, forêts, solitudes si chères,
Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé !
What do these valleys,
these palaces, and these rustic cottages do for me,
Vain objects whose charm, for me, is vanished?
Rivers, rocks, forests, solitudes so dear,
You lose just one person, and the rest disappear.
Que le tour du soleil ou commence ou s'achève,
D'un oeil indifférent je le suis dans son cours ;
En un ciel sombre ou pur qu'il se couche ou se lève,
Qu'importe le soleil ? je n'attends rien des jours.
Whether the circuit of the sun either is starting or ending,
With an indifferent eye, I follow its progression;
In a sky somber or clear, whether it sleeps or wakes,
What does the sun matter? I expect nothing of the days.
Quand je pourrais le suivre en sa vaste carrière,
Mes yeux verraient partout le vide et les déserts :
Je ne désire rien de tout ce qu'il éclaire ;
Je ne demande rien à l'immense univers.
When I could follow it in its vast course,
Everywhere my eyes would see void and deserts:
I desire nothing of all that it illuminates;
I demand nothing from the immense universe.
Mais peut-être au-delà des bornes de sa sphère,
Lieux où le vrai soleil éclaire d'autres cieux,
Si je pouvais laisser ma dépouille à la terre,
Ce que j'ai tant rêvé paraîtrait à mes yeux !
But perhaps above the
border of its sphere,
Places where the true sun shines other skies,
I could leave my corpse on the earth,
And that which I so dreamed about would appear before my eyes!
Là, je m'enivrerais à la source où j'aspire ;
Là, je retrouverais et l'espoir et l'amour,
Et ce bien idéal que toute âme désire,
Et qui n'a pas de nom au terrestre séjour !
There, I would be drunk at the spring that drink,
There, I would rediscover hope and love,
And this great ideal that my whole soul desires,
And that which has no name in this terrestrial sojourn.
Que ne puîs-je, porté sur le char de l'Aurore,
Vague objet de mes voeux, m'élancer jusqu'à toi !
Sur la terre d'exil pourquoi resté-je encore ?
Il n'est rien de commun entre la terre et moi.
What can I not do, carried on the chariot of the dawn?
Vague object of my ardent desires, I hurry toward you!
Why do I still rest on the earth of exile?
there is nothing in common between the earth and myself.
Quand là feuille des bois tombe dans la prairie,
Le vent du soir s'élève et l'arrache aux vallons ;
Et moi, je suis semblable à la feuille flétrie :
Emportez-moi comme elle, orageux aquilons !
When
the leaf of the forest falls in the prairie,
The wind of the night rises and snatches it from the valleys,
And me, I resemble the withered leaf:
Take me, like it, thundery winds!
