T H E S W A N S
Il est d’etranges soirs,
Ou les fleurs ont une ame…
Albert Samain
Silent is the night, a serene summer night,
Darkness has draped the
vastness of the sky;
In the distance, only a few
scattered lights
Flake down their snow ever so
softly…
Not a whisper. Silence shimmers
and shivers
In the endless, limitless
expanse of space;
And like blinking eyes, the
distant glimmers
Of street lights gleam in the
palm of suburbs.
Towering in the eyes of the
dark, the far away
Shadow of the Juras naps
serene, soundless;
Further up, enormous, with
disdainful sway
Rises high the Alps’ amethyst
countenance.
Couched sensuously in the
primeval cradle
Of the ageless pair of the most
majestic chain,
Slumbers the azure spirit of
Leman, lovable
As the fairest of fairies of those mountains.
* * *
The night is still, the lake,
sad. In the distance,
Enticing as early sunrays,
playful as bubbles,
On the becalmed surface of the
sleeping waters,
Two swans slide silent, in
secluded loneliness.
Their bodies are lovely,
unsoiled by any speck,
With snow-white feathered wings
of silver,
And their long, marble-cast,
curvilinear necks
Akin to temple columns designed
by dreamers.
They approach each other, oh,
ever so slowly,
After a straight surge avast,
they join beaks,
In a way not ever matched by
lips in ecstasy,
In fervor of such turmoil that
passion wreaks.
* * *
And they raise high their
snow-white wings,
They entwine their soaring
necks skyward,
In a manner that no two arms
can ever swing,
Even at love’s peak passion’s
clear command…
Far, far away, village lights
flicker in the dark,
Farther, yet higher, is the
Juras’ distinct likeness;
Higher yet, the panorama of the
Alps, tall, stark;
Higher still, the firmament
stands as witness….
Below, morose, on the placid,
napping waters,
Content with the knowledge of a
regal duty,
Mouth to mouth, neck around
neck, ponder
The swans in deep silence,
motionless, haughty….
July, 1907 ------------------ RUBEN SEVAK
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
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