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  • This is an autumn poem by Paul Verlaine. I have done a modest translation in English and append it

    below. Try

    reading it aloud in French

    Les sanglots longs

    Des violons

    De l'automne

    Blessent mon cœur

    D'une langueur


    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.

    The maudlin strains

    Of the violins

    Of autumn

    Tear at my heart

    With a languorous



    And ashen

    When the knell sounds

    I remember

    Days gone by

    And I cry

    And I am tossed

    By the ferocious winds

    Here, there, up, everywhere

    Like a dead leaf

    Photo: An autumn photo taken at The Royal Botanical Gardens of Edinburgh.

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