Au coin de cet organe,
Y caressant ses cordes sensibles,
Ma Muse Toscane
Joue de sa lyre irrésistible.

Un son, pour chaque mot
D'amour qui deviennent
Inspiration ; et le tempo
S'adoucit, d'aussi **** que je m'en souvienne !

Car il n'y a que le cerveau
Qui s'imagine que l'italienne
Devrait m'offrir sa peau de porcelaine.

Mon pauvre cerveau,
Cet espèce d'organe maso,
Me pense libertino !

Tes cheveux de braise,
Peu semblables à ceux des autres marseillaises ;
Et tes beaux yeux !
Ah... Plus prêts de moi, je les veux !

Et ton parfum exotique,
Dans le creux où se réfugie
Ta croix catholique ;
Dans ma tête, tout s'assagit !

Ton corps aphroditien,
Enfant bénie du feu,
Si tu le veux, je suis tiens...
– Muse ! Tu fais des envieux.

Tu es précieuse
Comme une nébuleuse.
Sous le soleil à peine chaud,
Oublie tes maux...

Partage moi ton lyrisme,
Qui m'inspire,
Comme ta belle voix de lyre :
"Quel érotisme !"

Fermer ses yeux si fort,
Que je peux discerner des couleurs,
Des arabesques, des tâches, puis l'incolore.
Ce soir, ce mythe se fait peu prometteur...

Rouverts comme deux portes maudites,
Mes pupilles ne regardent que la lumière
De l'étoile levante et hypocrite:
"Ah ! Quel caractère !"

Pas un rêve ne m'a émancipé.
La lune n'est d'aucun réconfort,
Mais le soleil a bien plus de torts.

Nuls cauchemars
Ne réparent
Ma lucidité...

A pursuit of persecution
Print and Ink
Outlawed
They Danced
Conviction
Far Out Trials of Wars
At the Living Dance
A Symbol
A Sign
I'm Delicacy

j'aimerais manger les étoiles,
qui échappe mes mains,
mais reste en mes yeux,
j'aimerais manger les étoiles,
ces fantômes qui me moquent,
leur distance plus grande que je peux imaginer,
j'aimerais manger les étoiles,
qui danse en soirée,
et parle avec le soleil et la lune,
et je sais que c'est une folie, ce souhait,
mais j'aimerais manger les étoiles.

It happened slowly
an approach
a rustle of fabric
in the soundtrack
a dot of glue
on the image
and then the confused feeling
that something is off,
a counter-melody,
a misstep in time.

I was three, maybe,
the film fraying
the movie skipping
and me splitting
in the rip
and fall.

The dark staircase
the gray dust
on the black steps
the black steps
the gray dust
the cobweb
like a sail
on the stairs
waiting for the wind
as I wait...

It came softly
a rustle of fabric
a quiver of an idea
a shadow in the mirror
that I followed
and the film resumed.

From the depths of my mirror
I look at the screen
and put on a brave face
I give them the illusion
I pretend
to follow the measure

Laurent Chaineux  Schenmetzler

These are English translations of Voltaire, one of the world's most prolific, best and most influential writers. Voltaire, born François-Marie Arouet (1694-1778), was an amazingly prolific writer who produced works in nearly every literary genre, including poems, plays, novels and novellas, satires, parodies, essays, histories, Bible criticism, and even early science fiction!

Les Vous et Les Tu (“You, then and now”)
by Voltaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Phyllis, whatever became of those days
We spent riding in your carriage,
Lacking both lackeys and trappings,
Accompanied only by your graceful charms
And content with a humble supper
Which you (of course) transformed into ambrosia …
Days when you abandoned yourself in your folly
To the happily deceived lover
Who so earnestly pledged you his life?

Heaven had bequeathed you, then,
In lieu of prestige and riches,
The enchanting enticements of youth:
A tender heart, an adventurous mind,
An alabaster breast and exquisite eyes.
Well, with so many luring allurements,
Ah! what girl would have not been mischievous?
And so you were, graceful creature.
And thus (and may Love forgive me!)
You know I desired you all the more.

Ah, Madame! How your life,
So filled with honors today,
Differs from those lost enchantments!
This hulking guardian with the powdered hair
Who lies incessantly at your door,
Phyllis, is the very avatar of Time:
See how he dismisses the escorts
Of tender Love and Laughter;
Those orphans no longer dare show their faces
Beneath your magnificent paneled ceilings.
Alas! in happier days I saw them
Enter your home through a glassless window
To frolic in your hovel.

No, Madame, all these carpets
Spun at the Savonnerie
And so elegantly loomed by the Persians;
And all your golden jewelry;
And all this expensive porcelain
Germain engraved with his divine hand;
And all these cabinets in which Martin
Surpassed the art of China;
And all your white vases,
Such fragile Japanese wonders!;
And the twin chandeliers of diamonds
Dangling from your ears;
And your costly chokers and necklaces;
And all this spellbinding pomp;
Are not worth a single kiss
You blessed me with when you were young.

TRANSLATIONS OF VOLTAIRE EPIGRAMS AND QUOTES

Once fanaticism has gangrened brains
the incurable malady invariably remains.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love is a canvas created by nature
and completed by imagination.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If God did not create us, it was necessary for us to create him.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My only prayer to God was, “Lord, make my enemies ridiculous.” And he granted it.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

God is a jester performing for an audience too frightened to laugh.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Doubt is an undesirable condition, but preferable to ludicrous certainty.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Faith is believing what reason cannot countenance.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

‎Life is a shipwreck, yet we must sing in the lifeboats.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Every man is a product of his age and few are able to rise above its misconceptions.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Judge a man by his doubts rather than his certainties.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The secret of being a bore is to reveal everything.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Common sense is uncommon.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Once fanaticism has gangrened brains the malady is usually incurable.
—Voltaire, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Voltaire, Voltaire English Translations, Voltaire Poems, Voltaire Epigrams, Voltaire Quotations