[Julie Steiner]

"Les Chercheuses de poux" by Arthur Rimbaud (France, 1854-1891)


VERSE TRANSLATION:

Head-hunters

After Rimbaud

When the child, with his reddened, throbbing brow,
Longs for the vague dreams in whose peace it pales,
Two stately sisters tiptoe to his bed
With fragile hands and silver fingernails.

They sit him down beside an open window.
A mass of flowers perfumes the fresh air.
Dew falls on him. Gentle and purposeful,
Thin fingers wander through his heavy hair.

He listens to their breathing; tentative,
All honey, herbs and roses. Hears the hiss
That interrupts it; spittle captured by
A pouting lip — an interrupted kiss.

He hears their lashes swish through scented silence.
Their busy fingers gently creep and pause
To infiltrate his indolence with clicking
As tiny lice expire between their claws.

Liquor of laziness goes to his head,
Sweet, sighing sound threatens to get him high;
And oh, those slow caresses make him feel
The rise and fall of a desire to cry.


FRENCH ORIGINAL:

Les Chercheuses de poux

Quand le front de l'enfant, plein de rouges tourmentes,
Implore l'essaim blanc des rêves indistincts,
Il vient près de son lit deux grandes sœurs charmantes
Avec de frêles doigts aux ongles argentins.

Elles assoient l'enfant devant une croisée
Grande ouverte où l'air bleu baigne un fouillis de fleurs,
Et dans ses lourds cheveux où tombe la rosée
Promènent leurs doigts fins, terribles et charmeurs.

Il écoute chanter leurs haleines craintives
Qui fleurent de longs miels végétaux et rosés,
Et qu'interrompt parfois un sifflement, salives
Reprises sur la lèvre ou désirs de baisers.

Il entend leurs cils noirs battant sous les silences
Parfumés ; et leurs doigts électriques et doux
Font crépiter parmi ses grises indolences
Sous leurs ongles royaux la mort des petits poux.

Voilà que monte en lui le vin de la Paresse,
Soupir d'harmonica qui pourrait délirer ;
L'enfant se sent, selon la lenteur des caresses,
Sourdre et mourir sans cesse un désir de pleurer.


ENGLISH PROSE CRIB:

The seekers of Lice

When the front of the child, full of red woes;
Implores the white swarm dreams indistinct
He comes by his bed two large charming sisters
With frail fingers nails argentine.

They sit a child in front of a cross
Wide open where the blue air bathes a jumble of flowers,
And her heavy hair where the dew falls
Walking their slim fingers, terrible and charming.

He listens to sing their fearful breath
That feel long plants and roses honeys
Qu'interrompt and sometimes wheezing, saliva
Reversal of the lip or desires kisses.

He hears their black eyelashes beating in silence
fragrant; and electrical and gentle fingers
Crackles from his indolence gray
Under their fingernails royal death in young lice.

Behold rises in him the wine of Laziness
Sigh harmonica could rave;
The child feels, in slow caresses,
Well up and die constantly desire to cry.