Ophelia

from Rimbaud

I.

On the calm black waves, where the stars settle down
The white Ophelia floats like a flower,
Floats so slowly, reclined in her long gown...
Listen! In the woods –- a beast has met its hour.

Over a thousand years here the bleak Ophelie
Drifts, pale specter, with the long stream’s ease;
Over a thousand years here her sweet folly
Murmurs its romance to the evening breeze.

The winds kiss her breasts, unwind as they sweep
Her flowing gown, wafted lightly by the sough;
On her shoulder the trembling willows weep,
And the reeds bow down to her dreamer’s brow.

The sunken lily-pads sigh all around her;
In a sleeping span, she wakes on the by
Some nest where a wing flees with a flutter.
-- A mysterious prayer falls from the sky.

II.

O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes, my child, you died, taken by a river!
It’s that Norway’s icy winds, tumbling below,
From silver peaks hushed of liberty’s raw shiver;

It’s that a breath of air, swirling your wild hair,
Brought your dreamer soul a noise you could not place;
That your heart listened, attuned to Nature’s prayer
In the moaning of trees and the sighing of space.

It’s that the insane ocean’s voice, tremendous gear,
Broke your child heart, too human and too sweet;
It’s that one April morning, a gaunt cavalier
And a poor fool kneeled mutely at your feet.

Sky! Love! Liberty! O poor fool, what a dream!
You dissolved into him like snow into flame:
Your luminous visions strangled your scream
-- And the dread infinite called you by name!

III.

-- And the Poet says, where the starlight streams down,
You come to find, that night, flowers for your bower;
And he saw on the sough, reclined in her long gown,
The white Ophelia float, like a flower.