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• 1 media/Thumb 176.png 2024-12-24T10:32:54-05:00 La Lyre Haïtienne: Le Soir Près de l'Onde (Poem) 11 plain 2025-01-03T12:44:41-05:00 Our readers will taste these charming little verses even better in learning that death has just taken this young poet of 23 years whose precocious talent was improving day by day.

  Le Soir Près de l'Onde

  I was alone near the surges of a starry night 
  V. Hugo (Les Orientales)
  
  I love to sit.
  In the evening,
  Alone near the water
  As it rumbles,
  Contemplating, joyful,
  The skies
  And the night where billows
  The fog:
  
  I love the night,
  The confused
  Noise of the
  Plaintive shore,
  The moaning
  Of the wind,
  And the moon,
  Blond and round.
  
  But sometimes
  When I see
  Through the clouds
  The image
  Of the sleeping star,
  Again,
  Hardly lighting
  The plains;
  
  When on the blue waves
  Through the fog
  My eyes focus on the foam
  That covers the rock face
  Of the wild coastline
  In white;
  
  When I sometimes hear
  The wind
  Crying through the 
  Outstretched branch
  I cry out: "O night,
  The noise
  Of a love supreme,
  I love it!"
  
  Arnold Laroche