Gedichte - Menschheit Leben Schicksal

Et c'est comme l'odeur ardente, L'odeur fiévreuse dans l'air noir, D'une chevelure d'amante Dénouée à travers le soir. Tout l'espace languit de fièvres. Du fond des coeurs mystérieux S'en viennent mourir sur les lèvres Des mots qui ont fermer les yeux. Et de ma bouche où s'évapore Le parfum des bonheurs derniers Et de mon coeur vibrant encore S'élèvent de vagues pitiés. Pour tous ceux-là, qui, sur la terre, Par un tel soir tendant les bras, N'ont point dans leur coeur solitaire Un nom à sangloter tout bas. Albert Samain, 1858-1900 - All the world's a stage , And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,