An Adaptation of Gautier with Google Translate

Since I talked about it in this article – here is an example. I adapted this with MT back when I was playing SubaHibi’s Jabberwocky. The quote about how (SPOILER) read Cyrano de Bergerac (In Insects) with a dictionary for fun (since that was how I picked up Japanese, with that kind of devil may care method) permeated deep inside me and exploded when I reached the next chapter. So I wrote this at the time. The act of writing this was one of the most viscerally beautiful things I have ever experienced in my life. It was at that moment that I realized the power of translation. I do not know whether the beauty of that moment can be conveyed through the words.

Portal

Adapted from a poem by Gautier

A trove so strange, farthest man – artist
Wherever you are – a portal made
With the detail – unfold this page

Ah, monument – a blue so far
My weight endures, while headless air
Would take me to the tower’s stair!

Where down below are my owl loves
And the gold sun with the whitest doves
While every step, ring bells in curves

Where minarets – rosettes – tall and clear
Between, in twos, larks wings, would sail
The shields of angels! – Above the frail!

Acanthus, lotus, with their seeing buds
Wishing lilies to Seraphim’s light
And the support of these Saxon archs

The chevaliers with hands in long
Look to the vault, praying feet in song
And silent waters that seep and pour

Where the poet first leaves you in trance
A granite slab – a ceaseless dance
From the letters carved as if like foam

Be soft – that gods couldn’t reach
With weight of their morality
And wander along with pilgrim feet

Less than obscure dead that walk
Spun upon the colonnades
Soft for graves to be made into beds

Held as close as companion true
More so than angels who curtain wing
A marble pillow – a dress in lead

Built in jasper, these royal tombs
Lighter kisses than the theologues
The aura and the vehement long

Chuckled long – than naked babes
Weaned on their eternal plaint
Until the lights are burnt to ends

The arabesque magnificent!
Laced the branches – noise suspent –
Like a trellis made with flowering vines

Reflected windows – the wind’s rejoice
The blossoming blossoms upon the voice!
Charmed deus that makes smiles of pain

Coquettish queen turned from Death
Her forehead pours ebony hair
A fascination of her lips in pale

My arms are sparkling scintillant
As Alabaster softens into pearls
And even bronze gleams less severe

Be as the spouse arranged in pairs
Falling as twins in the supple air
My beauty lingers – here, and there

Of the festons, lace and scale of crowns
Cloves, pendants, and pillared groups
Fantastic laughs in fevered rounds

Both the pages and the parade
Be my throne, platform, buffet
Based on all you want to see

Were we pushed by vain caprice
The midnight knave, at moon’s propent
We would raise ourselves from the lid again

Seek in seeking – the architects
Among the newborn derelicts
Would make the dead shrouds shroud in vain

The variating rays of light
From fireless illuminant
Like the ghost of gentle Christ

Between thin arms – a loving wife
Holding tighter, longer than dead
They would not fall you into scraps

The lastest day, upside-down its head –
The trembling stars from lost trumpettes
An outside stream brings fiery glance

After the judgment, the winged rounds
Retrieve bones from the ruined world
But remnants of the last word stirs

As the life was met to Lazarus
Tell them: Arise! Lift up in furls!
Don’t be the entroved complacents

How my verses are sculptured tombs
They hide a corpse between the frills
And bear him up as chanting still.

Each a coffin – bodiless moat
Though bodies swell upon the port
When my vessel sank within your seas

Aborted dreams, and dispassioned passions
And subterranean ardours in elegant wishes
Intimate existence – though bitter actions

My oceanwide to devour a ship
Breaking their hearts upon the reefs
Despite the copper and iron enwreath

Combined with intoxicants and joy
Beaux curlicues in silken flames
To the horizon reverent!

With charming guests – fresh round heads
Desires in breast – phantasmic dreams
Our humors placed upon the deck

A flood like calming cerement
The rouge of rose, a parlor allure
A toll and a fleur on every front

Flux and jest upon the coast
Mast and drift into the waves
Castaway wreck upon the green

Elevate travels in wild entrance
Those Colombuses split in their own distance
My verses spanned from airy vaults!

Cathedral scores built hardy up
Longate into those twisting words
That make us gears to the haven absurd

As you love your birds and poetries
Sonnets, pigeons of worldly skies
Winged upon the far belfries

April’s messengers in pirouettes
Swell their feathers upon the make
To relief holes in perching nests

My virgins still you in their robes
As emperors lean off the globes
For the lotus to bloom in earthy delight

Embroiders of networks to richest paints
Hollow stands for saints in the niche
And space that opens to the Aurora Borealis

I prayed to Saint Eloi for my chalice
And to Magi Gaspar for the blood
Swallow this charcoal and cinnamon fires

As the patrons are kneeling before the spire
As the bright brocade of the chasuble
And the work for you, my God, my Beau.

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