Monday, January 13, 2025

What Paul Verlaine and I Have in Common

 

   



  It has been a busy couple of days,  I missed posting on the actual anniversary of Verlaine's death on January 8. He died in Paris in 1896. I know enough French to enjoy some literature in the original and to navigate in a Francophone environment. There's an earlier blog about how and why I decided to take German after Latin II instead of French.

     In his poem Malines, Verlaine wrote about les prés sans fiun.."  the endless meadows.

    Malines is the French name for Mechelen, in northern Belgium. My maternal grandmother was born near Charleroi and spoke French as her native language. Verlaine also wrote about Charleroi in Belgium. I grew up near the American town of that name south of Pittsburgh. That Charleroi plays a major role in my second novel, which I am currently revising.

    But back to those endless meadows. Before I knew this poem, I used this image from near where we lived in Saluda County, SC as endless fields for a poem in my first poetry book, Places and Times (eLectio Publishing 2015). The second line contains the fields; I include the entire poem.

     The Island

No islander am I, but all the same

I wander green fields that go forever,

Rolling on towards a distant tree line

Or extending along to a sheltered cove.

At times I am invited, encouraged

Even, to stay for longer duration,

Taking my place alongside the others,

Savoring the stillness of hallowed space,

Watching colors brightening with the sun

And listening to wafting songs of praise

Resounding over and over again.

Contentment I find there from distant waves

And storms that come clashing onto the coast,

Until the stinging subtle reminder

That I am sojourner, not citizen.

Then turns my gaze once again to the strand

And beyond to the mainland, hovering

As it were above the waves, beckoning

Me to return and remain there.

On the mainland I indeed have a place

High on a hill. From its wooded crest my

Gaze penetrates the mists which are covering

The island. I have memories of the

Green pleasant hills but now I turn inland

To see the beckoning and distant hills

     


And link to the Verlaine:

https://clicnet.swarthmore.edu/litterature/classique/verlaine/malines.html

Read in French:  https://www.google.com/search?q=verlaine+malines+&sca_esv=db7ed66b9cb86445&udm=7&biw=1280&bih=613&sxsrf=ADLYWII1BcfG5mahZik_UyS89fbpXuEasg%3A1736811497990&ei=6aOFZ92MPPvhwN4Pzar-wAo&ved=0ahUKEwidpYSD7_OKAxX7MNAFHU2VH6gQ4dUDCBA&uact=5&oq=verlaine+malines+&gs_lp=EhZnd3Mtd2l6LW1vZGVsZXNzLXZpZGVvIhF2ZXJsYWluZSBtYWxpbmVzIDIGEAAYFhgeMgYQABgWGB4yCxAAGIAEGIYDGIoFMggQABiABBiiBDIIEAAYgAQYogQyCBAAGIAEGKIEMggQABiABBiiBEjUCVDFB1jFB3ABeACQAQCYAXWgAXWqAQMwLjG4AQPIAQD4AQGYAgKgAnqYAwCIBgGSBwMxLjGgB-gD&sclient=gws-wiz-modeless-video#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:44c70c90,vid:lh_SWz9X2nk,st:0

My books:

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=arthur+turfa+books&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss


https://www.blurb.com/b/10799783-the-botleys-of-beaumont-county

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