1]Poetry by Alphonse de LAMARTINE - L'humanité

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Baryton

valerianemusic

French cinematic folk, 1990s scoring

V6-WILD

[Introduction]
Part 1
Poetry by Alphonse de LAMARTINE - L'humanité - Jehova [1790 - 1869]
[Poem]
Humanity —
At higher steps on the ladder of being
In more brilliant traits, Jehovah is about to appear,
The night that veiled Him here vanishes away!
Behold, in the pure rays of love about to be born,
The maiden who unfolds in blossom!
She does not yet dazzle
The fascinated eye that she suspends,
One sees that she herself is unaware
Of the voluptuousness she scatters;
Similar, in her virginal flower,
To the pure, early morning hour
That follows the shadow and that the day follows,
Doubly beautiful to the eyelid,
Both with the splendors of the light
And the mysteries of the night!
Her light brow rises and hovers
On a flexible, slender neck,
Like upon the diaphanous wave
A swan gently rocked;
Beneath the scarcely outlined vault
Of this temple where her soul dwells,
One sees the eyebrow sketching itself,
A wavy arch of gold or ebony
That a breath fears to erase,
Or a paintbrush to retouch!
There sparkled two glimmers
Which are veiled and covered at every instant,
Like a bird beating its wings,
The eyelid with its fluttering lash!
Upon the transparent nostril
The veins where the blood serpents
Interlace as if by design,
And from her breathing lip
Spreads with a smile
The balmy breath of her bosom!
Like a melodious genius
Making concerts out of scattered sounds,
A sympathetic harmony
Tunes these diverse features to one another;
From this accord, charm of charms,
In a smile or in tears
Are born grace and beauty;
Beauty, supreme mystery
Which reveals itself
Only through desire and voluptuousness!
Upon her features whose soft oval
Limits the graceful ensemble,
The colors displayed by the cloud
Blend to charm the eyes;
To the purple tinting her cheek,
One would say the dawn plays there,
Or that she has fixed forever,
At the moment seeing her hatch,
A gliding ray of aurora
Upon a marble of divine contours!
Her hair that pours forth
At the wind's will takes its flight,
Glides in waves down to her hip,
And there tapers into golden fringes;
Around the white neck it embraces,
Like a necklace it entwines,
Descends, serpents, and comes to roll
Upon a bosom where scarcely swell
Two sources from which human life
In streams of love must flow!
Noble and light, she sports,
And the grass her footsteps tread
Beneath the weight of her alabaster foot
Bends and does not break!
Her waist sways as she walks
Like the little skiff that dances
When the sail rounds out
Beneath its mast rocked by the dawn,
Balances its yet empty flank
Upon the rebounding wave!
Her soul is nothing but tenderness,
Her body nothing but harmonious contour,
Her whole being caressed by the eye
Is but a presentiment of love!
She pities all that sighs,
She loves the air she breathes,
Dreams or weeps, or sings apart,
And, without knowing what it implores
Of a voluptuousness she is unaware of,
She blushes beneath a glance!
But already her more mature beauty
Blooms in her fifteenth summer;
To her eyes all nature
Is naught but innocence and voluptuousness!....
To be continued for Part 2...

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[Introduction] Part 1 Poetry by Alphonse de LAMARTINE - L'humanité - Jehova [1790 - 1869] [Poem] Humanity — At higher steps on the ladder of being In more brilliant traits, Jehovah is about to appear, The night that veiled Him here vanishes away! Behold, in the pure rays of love about to be born, The maiden who unfolds in blossom! She does not yet dazzle The fascinated eye that she suspends, One sees that she herself is unaware Of the voluptuousness she scatters; Similar, in her virginal flower, To the pure, early morning hour That follows the shadow and that the day follows, Doubly beautiful to the eyelid, Both with the splendors of the light And the mysteries of the night! Her light brow rises and hovers On a flexible, slender neck, Like upon the diaphanous wave A swan gently rocked; Beneath the scarcely outlined vault Of this temple where her soul dwells, One sees the eyebrow sketching itself, A wavy arch of gold or ebony That a breath fears to erase, Or a paintbrush to retouch! There sparkled two glimmers Which are veiled and covered at every instant, Like a bird beating its wings, The eyelid with its fluttering lash! Upon the transparent nostril The veins where the blood serpents Interlace as if by design, And from her breathing lip Spreads with a smile The balmy breath of her bosom! Like a melodious genius Making concerts out of scattered sounds, A sympathetic harmony Tunes these diverse features to one another; From this accord, charm of charms, In a smile or in tears Are born grace and beauty; Beauty, supreme mystery Which reveals itself Only through desire and voluptuousness! Upon her features whose soft oval Limits the graceful ensemble, The colors displayed by the cloud Blend to charm the eyes; To the purple tinting her cheek, One would say the dawn plays there, Or that she has fixed forever, At the moment seeing her hatch, A gliding ray of aurora Upon a marble of divine contours! Her hair that pours forth At the wind's will takes its flight, Glides in waves down to her hip, And there tapers into golden fringes; Around the white neck it embraces, Like a necklace it entwines, Descends, serpents, and comes to roll Upon a bosom where scarcely swell Two sources from which human life In streams of love must flow! Noble and light, she sports, And the grass her footsteps tread Beneath the weight of her alabaster foot Bends and does not break! Her waist sways as she walks Like the little skiff that dances When the sail rounds out Beneath its mast rocked by the dawn, Balances its yet empty flank Upon the rebounding wave! Her soul is nothing but tenderness, Her body nothing but harmonious contour, Her whole being caressed by the eye Is but a presentiment of love! She pities all that sighs, She loves the air she breathes, Dreams or weeps, or sings apart, And, without knowing what it implores Of a voluptuousness she is unaware of, She blushes beneath a glance! But already her more mature beauty Blooms in her fifteenth summer; To her eyes all nature Is naught but innocence and voluptuousness!.... To be continued for Part 2...

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