Circé des bois et d' un rivage
Qu' il me semblait revoir,
Dont je me rappelle d' avoir
Bu l' ombre et le breuvage ;
Les tambours du Morne Maudit
Battant sous les étoiles
Et la flamme où pendaient nos toiles
D' un éternel midi ;
Rêves d' enfant, voix de la neige,
Et vous, murs où la nuit
Tournait avec mon jeune ennui...
Collège, noir manège.
Circé of shore and glade,
I seem to see again,
With whom I thought to drain
The potion and the shade;
The drums of Maudit Hill
Beating under the moon
In the heat of an eternal noon
Our sails hang, still;
A child’s dreams, the snow’s spell,
Walls where the nights’ decrees
Nurtured my green unease…
School, bleak carousel.
I am indebted to Peter Cogman for the following comment:
"I think it's an interpolation in 'la flamme d'un éternel midi' (in turn for 'un éternel midi flamboyant' - PJT liked nominal turns) in which the sails of a boat he's on are hanging down because there is no wind. Elliptical and brief; but you end up with two lines night, with both sounds and stars, and two lines midday, with light, heat and no wind, and an implicit sea in both. I hadn't thought about int much before, but the more you look, the more there is (typical PJT!)."
Steinmetz notes: Nos toiles : les « voiles » sont devenues « toiles » car il n’y a pas de vent.
And of course Collège, noir manège is an allusion to the various establishments from which a fractious Toulet was sent down.
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