Au pied de mon lit, une Vierge n?gresse
fut mise par ma m?re. Et j’aime cette Vierge
d’une religion un peu italienne.
Virgo Lauretana, debout dans un fond d’or,
qui me faites penser ? mille fruits de mer
que l’on vend sur les quais o? pas un souffle d’air
n’?meut les pavillons qui lourdement s’endorment,
Virgo Lauretana, vous savez qu’en ces heures
o? je ne me sens pas digne d’?tre aim? d’elle
c’est vous dont le parfum me rafra?chit le coeur.
At The Foot Of My Bed
At the foot of my bed my mother hung a Black Virgin.
And I love this Virgin
with an almost Italian devotion.
Virgo Lauretana, standing in a field of gold,
you make me think of a thousand crustaceans
for sale on wharves where not a breath of air
stirs the sleepy banners.
Virgo Lauretana, you know that in those hours
when I am not worthy to be loved by her,
your perfume refreshes my heart.
(Francis Jammes)
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