Victor Hugo's Return to France in 1870
Yes: the same meadows, — the horizon clear, —
The same tall poplars by the unchanged streams;
For just one moment the pale exile dreams
That sweet unchanged fair former France is here.
But what is this that seizes eye and ear? —
What is that far-off smoke, — those fiery gleams?
A sound of shouts, — a sound of women's screams, —
French soldiers, wild and blood-stained, fleeing in fear!
This was his welcome. As his eager glance
Shot forth, it met a mixed ill-omened throng, —
Blue tunics flying before the Uhlans' lance;
Red-trousered weary troops who limped along;
This was the payment given by Fate and France
For nineteen years of exile and of song.
The same tall poplars by the unchanged streams;
For just one moment the pale exile dreams
That sweet unchanged fair former France is here.
But what is this that seizes eye and ear? —
What is that far-off smoke, — those fiery gleams?
A sound of shouts, — a sound of women's screams, —
French soldiers, wild and blood-stained, fleeing in fear!
This was his welcome. As his eager glance
Shot forth, it met a mixed ill-omened throng, —
Blue tunics flying before the Uhlans' lance;
Red-trousered weary troops who limped along;
This was the payment given by Fate and France
For nineteen years of exile and of song.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.