Gérard de Nerval

El Desdichado (The Disinherited)

I am the darkness – the widower – the un-consoled,

The prince of Aquitaine in the ruined tower;

My sole star is dead – and my constellated lute

Bears the black sun of Melancholy.

You who consoled me in funereal night,

Bring me Posilipo, the sea of Italy,

The flower that pleased my grieving heart,

And the trellis where the vine entwines the rose.

Am I Phoebus or Love?...Biron or Lusignan?

My brow’s still red from the queen’s kiss;

I dreamed in the grotto where Sirens swim…

And twice victorious crossed Acheron:

Plucking from Orpheus’ lyre one by one

The saintly sighs and the faerie cries.


diff. trans.


I am the man of gloom - widowed - unconsoled
The prince of Aquitaine, his tower in ruin:
My sole star is dead - and my constellated lute
Bears the Black Sun of Melancholia.

In the night of the tomb, you, my consolation,
Give me back Posillipo and the Italian sea,
The flower that so eased my heart's desolation,
And the trellis that twines the rose into the vine.

Am I Eros or Phoebus? Lusignan or Biron?
My brow is still red with the kiss of the queen;
I have dreamt in the grotto where the siren swims. . .

And, twice victorious, I have crossed Acheron:
My Orphic lyre in turn modulating the strains
Of the sighs of the saint and the cries of the fay.