Chapter I: Front Matter

THE LOVE POEMS OF EMILE VERHAEREN

TRANSLATED BY

F. S. FLINT

LONDON

CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD.

1916

A CELLE QUI VIT A MES CÔTÉS

CONTENTS

THE SHINING HOURS

I. O the splendour of our joy
II. Although we saw this bright garden
III. This barbaric capital, whereon monsters writhe
IV. The sky has unfolded into night
V. Each hour I brood upon your goodness
VI. Sometimes you wear the kindly grace
VII. Oh! let the passing hand
VIII. As in the simple ages
IX. Young and kindly spring
X. Come with slow steps
XI. How readily delight is aroused in her
XII. At the time when I had long suffered
XIII. And what matters the wherefores
XIV. In my dreams, I sometimes pair you
XV. I dedicate to your tears
XVI. I drown my entire soul in your two eyes
XVII. To love with our eyes
XVIII. In the garden of our love
XIX. May your bright eyes, your eyes of summer
XX. Tell me, my simple and tranquil sweetheart
XXI. During those hours wherein we are lost
XXII. Oh! this happiness, sometimes so rare
XXIII. Let us, in our love and ardour
XXIV. So soon as our lips touch
XXV. To prevent the escape of any part of us
XXVI. Although autumn this evening
XXVII. The gift of the body when the soul is given
XXVIII. Was there in us one fondness
XXIX. The lovely garden blossoming with flames
XXX. If it should ever happen that

THE HOURS OF AFTERNOON

I. Step by step, day by day
II. Roses of June, you the fairest
III. If other flowers adorn the house
IV. The darkness is lustral
V. I bring you this evening, as an offering
VI. Let us both sit down on the old worm-eaten bench
VII. Gently, more gently still
VIII. In the house chosen by our love
IX. The pleasant task with the window open
X. In the depth of our love dwells all faith
XI. Dawn, darkness, evening, space and the stars
XII. This is the holy hour when the lamp is lit
XIII. The dead kisses of departed years
XIV. For fifteen years
XV. I thought our joy benumbed for ever
XVI. Everything that lives about us
XVII. Because you came one day
XVIII. On days of fresh and tranquil health
XIX. Out of the groves of sleep I came
XX. Alas! when the lead of illness
XXI. Our bright garden is health itself
XXII. It was June in the garden
XXIII. The gift of yourself
XXIV. Oh! the calm summer garden where nothing moves!
XXV. As with others, an hour has its ill-humour
XXVI. The golden barks of lovely summer
XXVII. Ardour of senses, ardour of hearts
XXVIII. The still beauty of summer evenings
XXIX. You said to me, one evening
XXX. "Hours of bright morning"

THE HOURS OF EVENING

I. Dainty flowers, like a froth of foam
II. If it were true that a garden flower
III. The wistaria is faded and the hawthorn dead
IV. Draw up your chair near mine
V. Be once more merciful and cheering to us, light
VI. Alas! the days of the crimson phlox
VII. The evening falls, the moon is golden
VIII. When your hand
IX. And now that the lofty leaves have fallen
X. When the starry sky covers our dwelling
XI. With the same love that you were for me
XII. The flowers of bright welcome
XIII. When the fine snow with its sparkling grains
XIV. If fate has saved us from commonplace errors
XV. No, my heart has never tired of you
XVI. How happy we are still
XVII. Shall we suffer, alas! the dead weight of the years
XVIII. The small happenings, the thousand nothings
XIX. Come even to our threshold
XX. When our bright garden was gay
XXI. With my old hands lifted to your forehead
XXII. If our hearts have burned
XXIII. In this rugged winter
XXIV. Perhaps, when my last day comes
XXV. Oh! how gentle are your hands
XXVI. When you have closed my eyes to the light

THE SHINING HOURS

I

O the splendour of our joy, woven of gold in the
silken air!

Here is our pleasant house and its airy gables,
and the garden and the orchard.

Here is the bench beneath the apple-trees, whence
the white spring is shed in slow, caressing
petals.

Here flights of luminous wood-pigeons, like
harbingers, soar in the clear sky of the
countryside.

Here, kisses fallen upon earth from the mouth of
the frail azure, are two blue ponds, simple and
pure, artlessly bordered with involuntary flowers.

O the splendour of our joy and of ourselves in
this garden where we live upon our emblems.

II

Although we saw this bright garden, wherein we
pass silently, flower before our eyes, it is
rather in us that grows the pleasantest and
fairest garden in the world.

For we live all the flowers, all the plants and
all the grasses in our laughter and our tears of
pure and calm happiness.

For we live all the transparencies of the blue
pond that reflects the rich growths of the golden
roses and the great vermilion lilies, sun-lips
and mouths.

For we live all joy, thrown out in the cries
of festival and spring of our avowals, wherein
heartfelt and uplifting words sing side by side.

Oh! is it not indeed in us that grows the
pleasantest and the gladdest garden in the world?