Initially released in 1992, this bilingual anthology represents the energy, variety, and originality with which the Symbolist stream was once grafted in Belgium. Cultivating an aesthetics of hallucination and spatial paradigms of the interior global, the fin de siècle Belgian poets reworked the canal towns and landscapes in their fatherland into lasting magnets of the mind's eye. The Belgian Symbolist poems are vessels of passage to visionary geographical regions, demonstrating the permeability of internal and outer fact.
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Extra resources for An Anthology of Belgian Symbolist Poets (Belgian Francophone Library)
Il se peut que los angeles Ville meure Ce soir . . . Les réverbères pleurent! “La Nuit est seule, comme un pauvre. . . . ” from Le Miroir du Ciel Natal l. a. Nuit est seule, comme un pauvre. Les réverbères offrent Leur ﬂamme jaune Comme une aumône. los angeles nuit se tait comme une église shut. Les réverbères mélancoliques Ouvrent leur ﬂamme rose Comme des bouquets de lumière, Des bouquets sous un verre et qui sont des reliques, Par qui l. a. Nuit s’emplit d’Indulgences plénières. 21 Donald Flanell Friedman: Belgian Symbolism, an Anthology 22 web page 22 an anthology of belgian symbolist poets The evening endures discomfort! The streetlamps, in a refrain, Dart their pink and sulphurous ﬂame, Like votive photos, And Sacred Hearts, Which the wind bleeds with chilly knives. The evening grows inﬂamed! The streetlamps, in a row, Unfurl their blue ﬂame, alongside the outskirts, Like souls, preventing for leisure, Souls of the day’s lifeless, treading the roadways, Who dream of go back to their locked homes, As they linger, many years, on the urban gates. “Sweet is the room . . . ” from The Reign of Silence candy is the room! —a light, secluded harbor, the place, weary of stretching its sails to the wind, My dream has come to leisure within the reflect, light and nonetheless. drained! with out eager for new headways of stars, Departures for islands, my dream is snoozing within the profound replicate, as though in a silent canal; And why wish for a few unexpected gust of wind, to force To excessive seas, this soul anchored within the looking-glass? “During these hours of unhappy night . . . ” from The Enclosed Lives in the course of these hours of unhappy night, should you want you have been lifeless, while the center is desolate and so weary, the soul, How soothing to technique the reflect and gaze, Calm waters of the reflect, very unlikely to exhaust, the place you lose your self, drifting from shore, in retreat . . . Oh! to set out within the cooling water of the replicate, To perish, slightly, as though within the water of twilight, Donald Flanell Friedman: Belgian Symbolism, an Anthology web page 23 Georges Rodenbach los angeles Nuit souffre! Les réverbères en choeur Dardent leur ﬂamme rouge et soufre Comme des ex–voto, Comme des Sacré-Coeur, Que le vent fait saigner avec ses froids couteaux. los angeles Nuit s’exalte! Les réverbères à l. a. ﬁle Déploient leur ﬂamme bleue, Dans les banlieues, Comme des âmes qui font halte, Les âmes en chemin des morts de los angeles journée Qui rêvent de rentrer dans leur maison fermée Et s’attardent longtemps aux portes de los angeles ville. “la chambre, un doux port relégué . . . ” from Le Régne du Silence Oui! c’est doux! c’est, los angeles chambre, un doux port relégué Où mon rêve, lassé de tendre au vent ses voiles, Dans le miroir tranquille et pâle s’est cargué. Las! sans plus espérer des sillages d’étoiles Et des départs vers des îles, mon rêve dort Dans le profond miroir, comme en un canal mort; Et faut-il désirer un coup de vent qui chasse En pleine mer cette âme à l’ancre dans los angeles glace? “Aux heures de soir morne . . . ” from Les Vies Encloses Aux heures de soir morne où l’on voudrait mourir, Où l’on se despatched le coeur trop seul, l’âme trop lasse, Quel rafraîchissement de se voir dans los angeles glace!
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