Voici une traduction d'un de mes poèmes que j'ai trouve mais j'y ai apporté quelques modification car mon anglais n'est pas génial. Mais "ice cream" à la place de "piece of ice" ça ne collait pas. Si vous ouvrez l'image vous verrez la traduction telle qu'elle a été faite par google.
Published on March 16, 2021 by Pi_ro_94
The trees are all white as covered with snow,
There is piece of ice where the market was held,
We hear the birds repeat their arpeggios,
Spring is coming, oh! as I would like
May he fill my heart with joy so that it may lighten up.
So much sorrow and grief since his birth.
The first, he was so young that oblivion
Almost erased it, he was no longer conscious
But an old scar lost in its folds
And awakening in him no reminiscence.
Poor daddy if his soul survives she must,
Of this absence of memory, to be sad,
Him who is not even a ghost to me.
Had the engineer triumphed over the artist
So that in each of us this part of his self
That he had set aside reborn and flourish?
Why do I remember the dead in the spring?
Isn't it thanks to them that our lives are fulfilled
And of the whole universe is not that the fate?
Yet do we know these bristling dead?
Our soul is full of strangers who have been
Our parents, our brothers, our aunts, our godmothers,
Friends, nieces, fallen in the past,
Having kept a part that has remained underground
From which rises an exasperated melancholy spleen.
I feel like that oak in the garden
Which still carries its dead leaves around it
While to the others, the greens and pinks cuddle
Buds kiss the air of their tender cohort.
They regret life despite the drizzle.
Posted in Poems