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Poems Saturnian

Om Poems Saturnian

Poems Saturnian by French poet Paul Verlaine (1844-1896) is the first book of poetry that the "Prince of Poets" wrote. This is the book that launched his career. First published in 1866 under the title of Poèmes Saturniens, the influences are clearly Romantic and Parnassian: Charles Baudelaire, Victor Hugo, Leconte de Lisle principally, but also Théophile Gautier, Catulle Mendès, Théodore Banville, and Albert Glatigny even. The poetry speaks for itself. Memory, memory, what do you want from me? In the fall, thrushes fluttered through the atonal air, And the sun was shooting a monotonous arrow Through the yellowing woods where the bise blared. We were alone, and we were walking while dreaming, Our hair and our thoughts to the wind, she and I. When, turning her face to me, she said, suddenly, "What was your finest day?" in a voice golden and lively. Her sweet and sonorous voice, with its angelic timber. A discreet smile of mine gave her the answer, and Devotedly, I kissed her pale white hand. - Ah! the first flowers, how sweetly scented they are! And what a charming sound the first "yes" makes When it exits the lips and mouth of the beloved!

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  • Språk:
  • Engelska
  • ISBN:
  • 9781955392297
  • Format:
  • Häftad
  • Sidor:
  • 120
  • Utgiven:
  • 30. juni 2022
  • Mått:
  • 152x7x229 mm.
  • Vikt:
  • 187 g.
  Fri leverans
Leveranstid: 2-4 veckor
Förväntad leverans: 27. januari 2025
Förlängd ångerrätt till 31. januari 2025
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Beskrivning av Poems Saturnian

Poems Saturnian by French poet Paul Verlaine (1844-1896) is the first book of poetry that the "Prince of Poets" wrote. This is the book that launched his career. First published in 1866 under the title of Poèmes Saturniens, the influences are clearly Romantic and Parnassian: Charles Baudelaire, Victor Hugo, Leconte de Lisle principally, but also Théophile Gautier, Catulle Mendès, Théodore Banville, and Albert Glatigny even.
The poetry speaks for itself.
Memory, memory, what do you want from me?
In the fall, thrushes fluttered through the atonal air,
And the sun was shooting a monotonous arrow
Through the yellowing woods where the bise blared.
We were alone, and we were walking while dreaming,
Our hair and our thoughts to the wind, she and I.
When, turning her face to me, she said, suddenly,
"What was your finest day?" in a voice golden and lively.
Her sweet and sonorous voice, with its angelic timber.
A discreet smile of mine gave her the answer, and
Devotedly, I kissed her pale white hand.
- Ah! the first flowers, how sweetly scented they are!
And what a charming sound the first "yes" makes
When it exits the lips and mouth of the beloved!

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