When Hugo Meets Shakespeare

Jean René Bazin PierrePierre

Description

Here is a collection, close to 175 poems by Victor Hugo, this genius, master of French classic poetry, in which the author lured ideas, meters and rhymes, in their proper sequence and their sweet symmetry, into following him abroad. They all agreed and came along.

Sadly the metaphors did not want to belong. They chose to remain on their “sol”. They would not step on any “soil” though “I” so much pleaded with them. But the others had a good time, where every rime found its own rhyme. They went snuggly upon each shelf… Well, you will get to judge yourself.

Sujets

• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 février 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 4
• EAN13: 9781669810988
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

When Hugo meets Shakespeare
 
Volume 1
 
 
 
 
 
JeanRené Bazin PierrePierre
 
Copyright © 2022 by JeanRené Bazin PierrePierre.
Library of Congress Control Number:2022902147
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-1099-5

Softcover
978-1-6698-1100-8

eBook
978-1-6698-1098-8
 
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 04/21/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
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Contents
Foreword
The Poet
Ibo
Lise
Solitude
While Knocking at a Door
Nomen, Numen, Lumen
To a Poet
Dreams
Evening Stroll
Blessed be the Child
The Giant
The Phantoms
The Jinns
Fragments of the Serpent
Nourmahal, the Redhead Girl
The Curse
The Dervish
The Favorite Sultana
The Pasha’s Sorrow
Enthusiasm
The Heads of the Seraglio, (I and II)
Canaris
Heaven’s Fire I, IX and X
Vintage Parody
The Legend of the Nun
Two Archers
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam
Sacer Esto
The Poet to Himself in1848
And on That Night
The Voyage
Thanksgiving
The Name
Paysage
One More Time
Blessed Perseverance
My Soul
Sweet Devotion
The Almighty
World History
The Solitary Man
Heartfelt Prayer
Clearwater-Bound
Way Down
If Ever I Had
Styx Crossing
Saturn
My Good Lord
Private Utterance
Woman’s Love
She and I Both
She
Evening Rowboat
The Spider and the Nettle
Under His Dome
Love Rebirth
Love’s Stead
Rarest of Pearls
Troubling Years
Wisdom
Magical Night
Love…Again
The Sole Destination
Nature’s Secret
Sweet Nothings
To The Concerned
From God Through Nature
Just Because
My Better Half
The Feast of Life
The Hourglass
The Science of Giving
Blessed Be
Daydream
Don’t Cry
Once Upon
Vanity, Vanity
Since
Evening Prayer
Sweetland
Dreambound
Behold
Summer Rain
The Bridge
My Godchild
Oceano Nox
My Children
My Dear
Written to Oneself
Quia Pulvis Es
To Viscount Eugene Hugo
The World and the Century
In the Graveyard Of…
Over a Popular Figure
Pensar, Dudar
Tentanda Via Est
April
Young Girl
The Strong Castle
Sweet Adèle
Hidden Treasure
Quien No Ama, No Vive
Beautiful Soul, Fitting Body
Sinite Parvulos Venire Ad Me
My Love Letters
In God Is All
Disdain
To a Traveler
History
To My Odes
The Genius
Moses over the Nile
Before a Rhône Glacier
Data Fata Secutus
Mazeppa
The Power of Hope
May Madness
Avarice and Envy
The Last Free Meal
The End
Sorrow of Olympio
The Past
At the Feuillantines circa 1813
The Nightmare
The Morning
Sad Remembrance (The Street Lad)
Someone
Last Words
My Daughter
To a Mother of a Dead Child
To Mademoiselle L.B.
Deep Inside
November
The Shadow
The Great All
Hope in God
Sunsets
The Antichrist
The First Sigh
The Cloud
The Shady Side of Dreams
Perseverando (Seventeenth Ode)
At the Olympio, Calumny
Fiat Voluntas
The Retreat
Mufti’s War Cry
The Final Point
In the Church Of…
Eclogue
The Others…and You
Mulieres
Infancy
The Last Judgment
To You
On the Dune
From a Teen Poet
Dolorosae
The Feuillantines
Veni, Vidi, Vixi
Futile Envy
The Statue
First of May
My Verses
Tomorrow
Charles Vacquerie
The Spring Maiden
Tears in the Night
Regrets
Summer Night
Wisdom V.H.

Foreword
Well, there you go, good folks, ri ght from Heaven’s cas cade,
A new genre of good read, your palate buds to raid.
It is not just poetry, not just classic po etry,
It’s poetry with a swing, candid and yet su ltry.
The writer has compiled, to make your dream come true,
A set of old favorites. Who wo uld have thought it thr ough?
Some feel they’re déj à vu.
But still, they come brand -new,
With a bright Anglo tone
To sit on your hearts’ th rone.
He carried the genius, by the hand, lovi ngly,
Right across the channel, over to Lord Kingsl ey’s.
There, amid famous teas, tasty biscuit cho ices,
He recorded keenly what poured from their vo ices.
The talks were so friendly around the hearth, at ease,
Hope so much the result, your loving hearts, will pl ease.
And when French and English wo uld clash, laden with p ride,
When no one would back down, stubborn on either side,
He’d carefully sneak his imaginary c lout
And settle any strife and erase any pout.
Twas such a daring task that his heart’s still poun ding
And his poor sanity, much shoved, is still dang ling…
He carefully followed substance, footage, and r hyme
And transported them all over the span of time.
Again, he hopes so much you joined in the f airy.
For it’s more than poetry, it’s pure fiction po etry!
The Poet
Shakespeare ponders away, far from shiny Versai lles,
Well-cut boxwoods and yews w ell trimmed and set thigh- high,
Right where tragedy groans, all weeping and ver bose.
And he observed the crowd w ith fixed stare and then pa used.
There, the woods all around shiver before his eyes.
Pale, he walks all dazzled, stunningly mesmer ized.
He goes, fiercely and bold, and like a rusty mane,
Shaking off his forehead what shade of light re main’
From his translucent skull, full of corpses and s ouls,
Of dreams of which you see the bright glow to be hold,
The whole world comes rolling and passes through his s ieve.
He holds tight in his fist, life as it is conce ived.
He makes his creatures cry with superhuman sobs.
He’s this famous genius, who sheer sanity, robs.
Just like the somber sea which the mind, so baf fles,
We capture, all trembling, what his theater sti fles.
He rages on the mind with his breath astoun ding,
And the heart, his fingers ready to come wrenc hing.
And he never desists. He’s a giant; he t ames
Richard III or leopard, Caliban of huge f rame.
The ideal is the wine poured by this dear Bac chus.
The monstrous, large subjects that he wrestles fo r us
Grumble all around him, splendid or missh apen.
He embraces Brutus, Lear, Hamlet with his pen,
Capulet, Montague, Caesar, and one by one,
The striges in the woods, the specter on the run
And after Aeschylus, and scaring Melpo mene,
Sinister, holding up shreds of souls he de mean’,
Some flesh of Othello, some remains of Mac beth,
The drama of this work of unmeasurable d epth,
And then he takes a rest. This lion of jug gles
Falls asleep in his den with claws where blood drib bles.

Ibo
Oh! Tell me why, from what’s hi dden,
With great brass wall,
Deep within the celestial den
In blissful st alls,
Why in this great sanct uary,
Blessed and mute,
As wrapped in true mort uary
All abso lute,
Conceal Your great eternal laws
And sound rea sons
Since from you I will always draw,
Sole Perfec tion?
Why do you hide in the sh adow,
Us to con fuse?
Why do you ignore the so rrow
To You diff used?
That evil builds up or dest roys,
Crawls or be king,
You know only You can em ploy
All my mind str ings!
Chaste beauty, Ideal that bef alls
Those suffe ring,
Who secures the mind rigid st alls
For hearts to sing.
You know too well, You I a dore,
Love and Sp irit,
You who dawns like ever be fore
And roams all str eets,
Faith girdled of many bright s tars,
Right owned by all,
I’ll go seek Your truths near or far,
Heeding Your call!
For so long and with no boun dary,
Bright rays of God,
Dwelled in your blessed hera ldry,
Heavenly pod.
Soul seasoned to the great a byss,
From the cr adle,
I always long for heaven’s b liss.
My cage rat tles!
Yes I’m a bird, like this crea ture
Amos dreame d of,
That St. Mark had noticed for sure
With eyes of love,
Who mingled its proudly raised top
To the radi ance.
The eagle wing, over manes, d rops,
Of lion st ance.
I have wings; I yearn for the peak,
With flight se cure.
I have wings even when storms w reak
The great a zure.
I run up many countless s teps;
I want to know.
Let science alone lose its pep,
Lost in sh adow!
You know well that the soul f aces
This strong de sire,
That regardless of the r aces
I’ll never tire!
You know well that the soul is st rong
And has no fear.
When fed by God, it can’t do w rong!
You know it, dear,
That I’ll go till the pilas ters
And that my s teps
On the ladder, ever fa ster,