Poisson d'avril? Non, merci.

April Fool’s Day is my least favorite “holiday”, probably because as a kid I tended to be less the prankster and more the...prankstee? And since I got made fun of more than enough as it was (the perils of nerdhood), an entire day devoted to that activity was not exactly something I looked forward to.

In France today is Poisson d’avril, or April Fish. The thing to do is make paper cutouts of fish and stick them on your friends’ backs. It sounds stupid, but it’s actually kind of funny, in a silly and innocent (and somehow egalitarian) way.

More to my liking, today begins National Poetry Month. Since I’m already on about the French, here is what I would, if pressed, call my favorite poem:

Le Pont Mirabeau
par Guillaume Apollinaire

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure


The more astute among you may have noticed that it’s in French. I’ve seen numerous translations and unfortunately none of them comes close to the original, but here’s a decent one. This is actually a version that was recorded by the Pogues.

Le Pont Mirabeau
by Guillaume Apollinaire

Below the Pont Mirabeau
Slow flows the Seine
And all our loves together
Must I recall again
Joy would always follow
After pain

Let night fall, let the hours go by
The days pass on and here stand I

Hands holding hands
Let us stand face to face
While underneath the bridge
Of our arms entwined slow race
Eternal gazes flowing
At wave's pace

Let night fall, let the hours go by
The days pass on and here stand I

Love runs away
Like running water flows
Love flows away
But oh how slow life goes
How violent is hope
Love only knows

Let night fall, let the hours go by
The days pass on and here stand I

The days flow ever on
The weeks pass by in vain
Time never will return
Nor our loves burn again
Below the Pont Mirabeau
Slow flows the Seine

Let night fall, let the hours go by
The days pass on and here stand I


Like I said, it’s decent, but a lot of my favorite stuff gets left out. Translating the first line, Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine, as “Below the Pont Mirabeau/Slow flows the Seine” somehow loses the simplicity and solidity of the line. I like it translated as “Under Mirabeau Bridge flows the Seine”, which gives you that and keeps the original’s rhythm as well. I love how that line is repeated at the end of the last stanza before the final refrain; to me it’s like the anchors of the bridge on either side of the river. And I love how that final stanza sort of resolves out of three lines in the subjunctive to the final line in the indicative, like being shaken out of reverie. Where the simplicity and solidity of the line make it seem neutral at the beginning of the poem, here it becomes quietly devastating. You don’t really get that sense in the English. And twisting the line "comme l'Espérance est violente" (how Hope is violent) to make it "How violent is hope" takes a lot of the sting out...you need the noun before you get the adjective, because the adjective is so unexpected.

I’ll post more favorite poems during April, but I’ll try to stick to ones written in English, so I don't have to complain about translations.