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• 1 media/A1N1A5P2-THUMB.png 2024-11-08T10:22:51-05:00 "Idylle" (Poem) 15 A love poem by the future president of Haiti Louis Borno. plain 2024-11-11T15:34:26-05:00 Translation:
  
  We introduce to our readers our friend and collaborator Louis Borno, who has already made a name for himself in Haitian literature. Caught off guard, he did not have the time to prepare a special piece for La Fraternité. We thus pulled the following verses randomly from his work that has remained in our memory:
  
  Idylle
  
  1
  Dear angel, when will come the day, tender and blessed
  When we will finally be together in our nest
  Far from jealous eyes and from the vile crowd,
  Far, so far, from white gloves and the people of the world,
  As not to spend all our happiness at once,
  Hoping to live and to truly live,
  We will make what prudent people make, and what is called
  A budget, but a budget wisely economical. 
  
  2
  And first, I glimpse, all white, through
  The gay fluttering of thick green foliage,
  Seeming so cute and so honest,
  The exquisite humility of our little home.
  I see the wooden balustrade, all covered in flowers,
  Where the linnets and the whistling blackbirds will come,
  Where we will go, at night, when the sky on its canvas
  Will have lit every star like a treasure,
  To breathe in the the perfumes that chase away the day,
  And usher in the sweet mutterings of love.
  
  Yes! I see all of this! My dream condenses,
  These hopes of the Ideal become its evidence,
  And, like a fresh carpet that covers my path,
  I see my entire happiness rolling out before me,
  Every morning, taking your cape and your parasol
  And placing your delicate little hand into mine,
  Muse, adorable Muse of touching fancies,
  You will come with me through the fresh fields.
  
  Calmly, without haste, and never thinking
  That we alone, walking carefree,
  Of all those who are lost in a too big sky, we
  Will wander; far enough to have sore legs,
  Until the moment when, retreating,
  We will return to a prepared table.
  
  3
  Thus, when the thrice-blessed day comes,
  When we will be together, at last, in our nest
  Far from jealous eyes and from the vile crowd,
  Far, so far, from white gloves and the people of the world,
  In order to savour our happiness, sweet dish,
  We will both have the divine art of gourmets,
  And when one day Death, inevitably thief,
  Crosses our threshold come to our table,
  She will surprise us, calm and tender couple,
  As we are consuming our final kiss.
  
  Louis Borno