The Irreparable

Can we stifle the old, the lingering Remorse, That lives, quivers and writhes, And feeds on us like the worm on the dead, Like the grub on the oak? Can we stifle implacable Remorse? In what philtre, in what potion, what wine, Shall we drown this old enemy, Destructive and greedy as a harlot, Patient as the ant? In what philtre, in what potion, what wine? Tell it, fair sorceress, O! tell it, if you know, To this spirit filled with anguish, So like a dying man crushed beneath the wounded, Who is struck by the horses' shoes; Tell it, fair sorceress, O! tell it, if you know, To this dying man whom the wolf already scents And whom the crow watches, To this broken soldier! if he must despair Of having his cross and his grave, This poor, dying man whom the wolf already scents! Can one illuminate a black and miry sky? Can one tear asunder darkness Thicker than pitch, without morning, without evening, Without stars, without ominous lightning? Can one illuminate a black and miry sky? Hope that shines in the windows of the Inn Is snuffed out, dead forever! Without the moon, without light, to find where they lodge The martyrs of an evil road! The Devil has put out all the lights at the Inn! Adorable sorceress, do you love the damned? Say, do you know the irremissible? Do you know Remorse, with the poisoned darts, For whom our hearts serve as targets? Adorable sorceress, do you love the damned? The Irreparable gnaws with his accurst teeth Our soul, pitiful monument, And often he attacks like the termite The foundations of the building. The Irreparable gnaws with his accurst teeth! - Sometimes I have seen at the back of a trite stage Enlivened by a deep-toned orchestra, A fairy set ablaze a miraculous dawn In an infernal sky; Sometimes I have been at the back of a trite stage A being who was only light, gold and gauze, Throw down the enormous Satan; But my heart, which rapture never visits, Is a playhouse where one awaits Always, always in vain, the Being with gauze wings! Translated by - William Aggeler The Irreparable How shall we kill this old, this long Remorse Which writhes continually And feeds on us as worms upon a corse, Maggots upon a tree? How stifle this implacable Remorse? What wine, what drug, what philtre known of man Will drown this ancient foe, Ruthless and ravenous as a courtesan. Sure as an ant, and slow? What wine? What drug? What philtre known of man? O tell, fair sorceress, tell if thou dost know This soul distraught with pain As a dying soldier crushed and bruised below Steel hooves and wounded men! O tell, fair sorceress, tell if thou dost know. This poor racked wretch the wolf already flays O'er whom the vultures whirr. This broken warrior! if in vain he prays For cross and sepulchre. This anguished wretch the wolf already flays! How should we rend dense gulfs which know not dawn Nor eve, nor any star? How pierce with light skies which abyss-like yawn When black as pitch they are? How should we rend dense gulfs which know not dawn? Hope glimmered in the windows of the Inn, But Hope is dead for aye! Moonless and rayless, can poor travellers win To shelter from the way? The Devil made dark the windows of the Inn! Dost love the damned, adorable sorceress? Dost know the smitten sore? Dost know Remorse that, grim and pitiless, Feeds at my heart's red core? Dost love the damned, adorable sorceress? My soul is prey to the Irreparable, It gnaws with tooth accurst, And, termite-like, the cunning spawn of hell Mines the foundations first! My soul is prey to the Irreparable! II Often within a theatre I have seen, 'Thwart the orchestral roar, A dazzling Fairy stand in sudden sheen Where all was gloom before! Often within a theatre I have seen A being made of light and gold and gauze Fling Demons to their fate! But on my heart's dark stage an endless pause Is all, and I await In vain, in vain the Spirit with wings of gauze! Translated by - Jack Collings Squire The Irreparable How can we choke the old and long Remorse Which lives, and squirms, and fights And feeds on us as worms upon a corse, Or, on the oak, its mites? How can we choke the old and long Remorse? What subtle philtre, wine, or drowsy draught Will drown that ancient foe, Greedy as whores in his disastrous craft, Ant-patient, sure, and slow? What subtle philtre, wine or drowsy draught? Lovely enchantress, if you know it, say To this soul whelmed with woes, Dying, whom loads of wounded crush to clay Under the horses' shoes: Lovely enchantress, if you know it, say To this poor moribund, while wolves yet stalk him And ravens croak his doom, To this spent soldier say if fate will baulk him Even of a cross or tomb - Say to this moribund, while wolves yet stalk him! Can this black muddy sky be ever lighted, The shades be ever torn, Denser than pitch, to day and dusk benighted, To lightning, stars, or morn? Can this black muddy sky be ever lighted? The candle Hope that shows the Inn to strangers Is blown out, snuffed, and melted. Lacking both moon and glimmer, how shall rangers Of evil roads be sheltered? The devil snuffed the light that burned for strangers. Sweet witch, do you love spirits lost to grace? Whose sins are not remitted? Say, do you know Remorse, with venomed face, By whom our hearts are spitted? Sweet witch, do you love spirits lost to grace? The Irreparable gnaws us where it lurks And for our soul's defacement, As on a monument the termite, works Up from the very basement. The Irreparable gnaws us where it lurks. In tawdry theatres I've sometimes seen How, to the blare of brasses, Miraculous, to light some hellish scene, Like dawn, a fairy passes; In tawdry theatres I've often seen That by this fay of light, and gold, and gauzes, Some monstrous fiend is slain. But my heart knows no raptures or applauses - A fleapit where, in vain, One waits, and waits the creature winged with gauzes. Translated by - Roy Campbell