English translation © 1984 by Andrew Porter
1 Moondrunk
The wine that through the eyes is drunk,
at night the moon pours down in torrents,
until a spring-flood overflows
the silent far horizon.
Desires, shuddering and sweet,
are swimming through the flood unnumbered_
The wine that through the eyes is drunk,
at night the moon pours down in torrents.
The poet, whom devotion drives,
grows tipsy on the sacred liquor,
to heaven turning his enraptured gaze
and reeling, sucks and slurps up
the wine that through the eyes is drunk.
2 Columbine
The moonlight’s pallid blossoms,
the white and wondrous roses,
bloom in July’s nights-
oh, could I pluck but one_
My heavy load to lighten,
in darkling streams I search for
the moonlight’s pallid blossoms,
the white and wondrous roses.
Then stilled were all my yearning,
could I, as in a fable,
so tenderly - but scatter
upon your brown tresses
the moonlight’s pallid blossoms_
3 The Dandy
And with a fantastical light-beam
the moon sheds a light on the crystalline flask
on the ebony, highly sacred washstand
of the taciturn dandy from Bergamo.
In sonorous, bronzen basin
laughs brightly the fountain’s metallical cry.
And with a fantastical light-beam
the moon sheds a light on the crystalline flask.
Pierrot with waxen complexion
stands musing and thinks: what makeup for today?
Rejecting the red and the orient green
he bedizens his face in a high noble style
and with a fantastical moonbeam.
4 A Pallid Laundrymaid
See a pallid laundrymaid
washing nightly faded linen;
naked, silver-whitish arms
stretching downward in the flood.
Through the clearing gentle breezes
lightly ruffle up the stream.
See a pallid laundrymaid
washing nightly faded linen.
And the tender maid of heaven,
by the branches softly fondled,
lays out on the darkling meadows
all her linen woven of moonbeams-
see a pallid laundrymaid.
5 Valse de Chopin
As a pallid drop of blood
stains the lips of a consumptive,
so there lurks within this music
morbid soul-destructive charm.
Wild accords of passion
breaking desperation’s icy dream
as a pallid drop of blood
stains the lips of a consumptive.
Fierce, triumphant, sweet and yearning,
melancholy sombre waltzing,
you will never leave my senses,
cling to each thought as I think it,
as a pallid drop of blood_
6 Madonna
Rise, O Mother of all Sorrows,
on the altar of my verses_
Blood pours forth from withered bosom
where the cruel sword has pierced it.
And thine ever-bleeding wounds
seem like eyes, red and open.
Rise, O Mother of all Sorrows
on the alter of my verses_
In the torn and wasted hands
holding the Son’s holy body,
thou revealst Him to all mankind -
but the eyes of men are turned away,
O Mother of all Sorrows_
7 The Sick Moon
O sombre deathly-stricken moon
lying on heaven’s dusky pillow
your stare, so wide-eyed, feverish,
charms me, like far-off melody.
Of unappeasable pain of love
you die, of yearning, choked to death.
O sombre deathly-stricken moon
lying on heaven’s dusky pillow.
The lover, with his heart aflame,
who heedless goes to meet his love,
rejoices in your play of light,
your pallid, pain-begotten blood,
O sombre deathly-stricken moon_
8 Night
Black gigantic butterflies
have blotted out the shining sun.
Like a sorcerer’s sealed book,
the horizon sleeps in silence.
From the murky depths forgotten
vapours rise, to murder memory_
Black gigantic butterflies
have blotted out the shining sun.
And from heaven toward the earth,
sinking down on heavy pinions,
all unseen descend the monsters
to the hearts of men below here...
Black gigantic butterflies.
9 Prayer to Pierrot
Pierrot_ my laughter
have I unlearnt_
The dram of radiance
dispersed, dispersed_
Black waves the banner
upon the mast.
Pierrot_ My laughter
have I unlearned_
O now return to me,
soul’s veterinarian,
Snowman of Lyric,
Your Lunar Highness,
Pierrot_ - my laughter_
10 Theft
Redly gleaming princely rubies,
bleeding drops of ancient glory
slumber in the dead men’s coffins,
buried in the vaults below us.
Nights, alone with his companions,
Pierrot descends, to plunder
redly gleaming princely rubies,
bleeding drops of ancient glory.
Then suddenly they’re rooted,
scared to death, hair standing straight up:
through the darkness, like eyes
staring from the dead men’s coffins -
redly gleaming princely rubies.
11 Red Mass
To gruesome grim communion,
by blinding golden glitter,
by flickering shine of candles,
comes to the altar - Pierro_
His hand, to God devoted
tears wide the priestly vestment,
At gruesome grim communion,
by blinding golden glitter.
He makes the sign of the cross
blessing the trembling, trembling people,
with trickling crimson wafer:
his heart in bloody fingers,
at gruesome grim communion.
12 Gallows Song
The haggard harlot
whose neck is scrawny
will be the last
of his mistresses.
And in his skull
she’ll stick like a needle,
the haggard harlot
whose neck is scrawny.
Slim as a pine tree,
she has a pigtail,
gaily she’ll bind it
around his neck,
the haggard harlot_
13 Beheading
The moon, a shining Turkish sword
upon a black and silken cushion,
and spectral vast hangs like a threat
in sorrow-darkened night_
Pierrot restlessly roams about
and stares on high in deathly fear
at the moon, a shining Turkish sword
upon a black and silken cushion.
And shaking, quaking at the knees,
oh, suddenly he faints, collapses,
convinced that there comes whistling down
upon his sinful guilty neck
the moon, a shining Turkish sword.
14 The Crosses
Holy crosses are the verses
whereon poets bleed in silence,
blinded by a flock of vultures
fluttering round in spectral swarms.
In their bodies swords have feasted,
glorying in their robes of scarlet_
Holy crosses are the verses
whereon poets bleed in silence.
Dead, the head - matted the tresses -
far and faint the noisy people.
Slowly sinks the sun in splendour,
like a crimson kingly crown.
Holy crosses are the verses.
15 Nostalgia
Sweet lamenting, like a crystal sighing,
rises from the old Italian comedy,
sadly asking: why’s Pierrot so wooden,
in the sentimental modern manner?
And it echoes through his heart’s desert
echoes mutedly through all his senses -
sweet lamenting, like a crystal sighing
rising from the old Italian comedy.
Then Pierrot forgets his tragic manner_
Through the silver fiery glow of moonlight,
through a flood of radiance swells his yearning,
boldly soars on high to skies of homeland -
sweet lamenting like a crystal sighing.
16 Mean Trick
In the gleaming skull of Cassander,
as he shrieks cries blue murder,
bores Pierrot with hypocritic kindness -
and a cranium - borer.
And then presses with his finger
very genuine Turkish tobacco
in the gleaming skull of Cassander,
As he shrieks and cries blue murder_
Then screwing a cherry pipestem
firmly in the polished surface,
at his ease he puffs away,
puffs on his genuine Turkish tobacco
in the gleaming skull of Cassander_
17 Parody
Knitting needles, brightly twinkling,
stuck in her graying hair,
sits the Duenna mumbling,
wearing ger short red dress.
She’s waiting in the arbor,
she loves Pierrot with anguish.
Knitting needles, brightly twinkling,
stuck in her graying hair.
But sudden - hark - a whisper_
a wind-puff titters softly:
the moon, that cruel mocker,
in mimicking with moonbeams
knitting needles twinkling bright.
18 The Moonfleck
With a snowy fleck of shining moonlight
on the back side of his smart new frockcoat,
so sets forth Pierrot one balmy evening,
in pursuit of fortune and adventure.
Sudden - something’s wrong with his appearance,
he looks round and round and then he finds it -
there’s a snowy fleck of shining moonlight
on the back side of his smart new frockcoat
Hang it_ thinks he: a speckle of plaster_
Wipes and wipes, but he can’t make it vanish_
On he goes, his pleasure has been poisoned,
rubs and rubs untill it’s almost morning
at a snowy fleck of shining moonlight.
19 Serenade
With a bow grotesquely monstrous
scrapes Pierrot on his viola.
Like a stork on one leg standing
sadly plucks a pizzicato.
Sudden_ here’s Cassander,
raging at the night-time virtuoso.
With a bow grotesquely monstrous
scrapes Pierrot on his viola.
Then he throws aside viola:
with a delicate use of the left hand
seizes Cassander by the collar -
dreaming plays upon his bald head
with a bow grotesquely monstrous.
20 Journey Homeward (Barcarolle)
A moonbeam is the rudder,
waterlily serves as boat,
and so Pierrot goes southward
with friendly following wind.
The stream hums scales beneath him
and rocks the fragile craft.
A moonbeam is the rudder,
waterlily serves as boat.
To Bergamo, his homeland,
at last Pierrot returns;
soft glimmers rise to eastward,
the green of the horizon.
A moonbeam is the rudder.
21 O Ancient Scent
O Ancient scent from fabled times,
once more you captivate my senses_
A merry troupe of roguish pranks
pervades the gentle air.
With cheerful longing I return
to pleasure I too long neglected.
O ancient scent from fabled times,
once more you captivate me.
All of my gloom I’ve set aside:
and from my sun-encircled window
I gladly view the lovely world,
and dreams go forth to greet the distance...
O ancient scent from fabled times
