Paul Verlaine
Je ne veux plus aimer
From Sagesse (L. Vanier, 1893)
“One afternoon, following the “patron’s” directions, I found Verlaine at church… There he was, in an attitude of humble, almost childlike adoration before the Virgin’s altar. I watched him pray with genuine fervour, pouring out his heart and soul—and when I touched his shoulder, I was infinitely moved by his pale face, its features relaxed and bathed in a kind of distant radiance, the face of a poor sinner laying down his burden of wretchedness at the feet of the Mother of Purity.” (René Ghil, Les dates et les œuvres, 1923, p. 48.)
I’ll love no more save Mary, Mother mine,
All other loves are but commanded duty,
Though needful, She alone in holy beauty
Can light them in hearts that hold Her shrine.
For Her I’ll cherish those who wish me ill,
Through Her I’ve vowed this sacrifice to make,
Both gentle heart and zealous service take—
As I beseeched, She granted me this will.
And when I still was weak and steeped in wrong,
With slackened hands, by worldly paths made blind,
She bent my gaze and clasped my hands combined,
And taught me words of worship, pure and strong.
Through Her I’ve willed these sorrows I must bear,
For Her my heart dwells in the Wounds of Five,
These good endeavours towards the Cross I strive—
As I invoked, She girt my loins with care.
I’ll think no more save Mary, Mother blessed,
True Seat of wisdom, fount where pardons start,
Mother of France—our nation’s waiting heart
Expects from Her its honour to be dressed.
O Mary Immaculate, essential love,
Clear Logic of the faith both warm and living,
What good might I not do, my whole heart giving
To you alone, my gateway to Above?
This is one of 50+ rare French literary texts translated into English for the first time on this site.
Léon Hennique Novel 