On The Grasshopper and the Cricket

The poetry of the earth will never die.
When the birds are faint beneath an ardent sun,
and they hide themselves in the trees, a voice
rings out between hedge and fresh-cut grass.
It's the voice of the grasshopper. She conducts
the symphony of Summer; she will never be
finished with that joy. When she is left to play
she pauses at the foot of a mad and pleasant blade.
The poetry of the earth will never end.
When, with the frost of Winter, a solitary evening
has forged a silence, peirced by
the cricket's song, who suffers in the cold
and seems as one who is lost in stupor,
the song of the grasshopper is in the hills of green.

originally by John Keats
Translated into French by Fouad El-Etr
un-translated by me

For One Who's been Too Long in the City

For one who's been too long in the city,
It's very sweet to look at the beautiful
Open face of the sky, to murmur a prayer,
Smiling at the blue firmament.
Who is more happy than when a satisfied heart
Abandons itself to that pleasant place
On waves of grass, reading an old romance
A noble tale of love and loss ?
To return home, in evening, an ear attentive
To the Philomel's song, and an eye following
The luminous course of a cloud.
He weeps for the day which has passed too quickly
Like the tear of an angel silently falling through the clear ether.

originally by John Keats,
translated into French by Fouad El-Etr
untranslated by me

Oh Solitude, If I must live with you

Oh Solitude, If I must live with you,
if I must be far from the chaos and the jumble,
of dark castles, let's climb together to the peak
of Nature's Observatory - from whence the valley
with its flurry of flowers, its raw, crystal source
seem a stretch of time. Only with you will I abide
In the nerves of the trees, where the quick deer bounds.
The forest bee thrums its digits, a tiny, tolling bell.
I will gladly witness these scenes with you.
A friendly dialogue with an innocent Soul must surely be
the most intense bliss of a man.
When two twin Spirits to refuge flee.

originally by John Keats,
translated into French by Fouad El-Etr
untranslated by me