françois coppee şiirleri

''do birds hide to die?
in the evening, by the fireside, i thought many times
when a bird dies, somewhere in the woods.
during the sad days of monotonous winter,
the poor deserted nests, the abandoned nests,
sway in the wind against an iron gray sky.
oh! how the birds must die in winter!
yet when the time comes for the violets,
we won't find their delicate skeletons
in the april lawn, where we will run.
do birds hide to die?''

kaynak: poetry foundation, do birds hide to die? (est-ce que les oiseaux se cachent pour mourir?)

''it would be on the banks of the seine. i see
our chalet, veiled by a clump of wood.
a hammock in the garden, a boat on the river.
no other companion than a newfoundland dog
that she would like and of which i would be very jealous.
earthenware with flowers would hang from nails;
then lots of straw hats and umbrellas.
under their chinese papers the walls would be so fragile
that same, working through the partition
i'll always hear him roam the house
and drag her slipper down the narrow stairs.
the mirrors in my bedroom would have smelled his breath
and often reflected his face, charmed.
she would have touched everything with her loving fingers.
and these noises, these reflections, these perfumes, coming from her,
would not allow me to be an hour unfaithful.
finally, when, pursuing a capricious verse,
i'll be there, pensive and with my hand over my eyes,
she would come, knowing yet that it is a crime,
to read my poem and whisper my rhyme,
behind me, silently, on tiptoe.
i, who don't want to see my secrets spied on,
i would turn around with a fierce air;
but his gentle kiss would shut my mouth.
- and in the nearby woods, flooded with rays,
preceded by the big dog, we would walk,
me, dressed in ticking, she, in a white toilet,
and i'd wrap her waist, and under her sleeve
my hand would caress the roundness of his arm.
we would make bouquets, and when we were tired
we would join, always followed by the yelping dog,
the table set, with roses on the tablecloth,
near the grove riddled with the setting sun;
and, while blowing kisses while eating,
while interrupting himself to say to himself: i love you!
we would season strawberries with cream,
and we would chat like dazed people
until night falls...

- o paradise!''

not: bence çeviren kişi zamirleri karıştırmış ama şiir genel olarak çok güzel.

kaynak: poetry foundation, the poet's dream (la reve du poete)

''in the autumn nights, wandering through the city,
i look to the sky with my desire,
for if, in the time that a star flies,
we form a wish, it must come true.

as a child, my wishes are always the same:
when a star falls, then, full of emotion,
i make big wishes for you to love me
and that in your exile you think of me.

to this chimera, alas! i want to believe
having only that to console me.
but here comes winter, the night turns black,
and i don't see any more stars spinning.''

kaynakça: poetry foundation, shooting stars (etoiles filantes)

yukarıdaki şiirlerin hiçbirisi françois coppee'ye ait değildir. kimin tarafından ingilizceye çevrildiğini bilmiyorum ama hepsi aynı şiirin başka bir dilde yeniden yaratımlarıdır. tıpkı tevfik fikret'in servet-i fünun dönemi türkçesiyle yazdığı şiirlerinin günümüz türkçesine aktarıldıkları zaman yeniden yaratılmaları gibi birer yeniden yaratım.
bugün başka bir sözlükte can yücel'in hamlet çevirisi başlığında da aynı konu tartışılıyordu. can yücel türkçedeki belki de en iyi shakespeare çevirisini yaptığı halde, o çeviriler aslında tamamen onun yeniden yaratısıdır. elbette bu başarının ardında çevirmenin kendisinin de bir şair, bir sanatçı olduğu gerçeği vardır.

tam da 66. sonenin ne güzel bir çevirisi olduğu üzerine konuşuyordum... (bkz: vay)