by John Keats (1795 - 1821)
Translation © by Jean-Pierre Granger

My spirit is too weak; mortality
Language: English 
Available translation(s): FRE GER HUN
[My]1 spirit is too weak; mortality 
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die,
Like a sick eagle looking towards the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep,
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time -- with a billowy main,
A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.

C. Ives sets lines 1-5
G. Bachlund sets lines 1-5

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1 Ives: "The"

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "En contemplant les marbres d'Elgin pour la première fois", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Beim ersten Sehen der Parthenon Friese", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • HUN Hungarian (Magyar) (Tamás Rédey) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 102

En contemplant les marbres d'Elgin pour la première fois
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
Mon esprit est trop faible; L'idée de la mort
Pèse lourdement sur moi comme un sommeil qu'on repousse,
Et chaque cimes et falaise chimérique
De privations pieuses me disent qu'il me faut mourir,
Comme un aigle malade levant son regard vers le ciel.
Pourtant, il m'est un doux réconfort de réaliser, en pleurant,
Que je n'ai pas à garder les vvent brumeux
Frais lorsque s'ouvre les yeux de l'aurore.
De telles gloires vaguement conçues par l'esprit
Aportent au coeur un trouble indescriptible;
Ainsi ces prodiges cause une douleur vertigineuse
Qui mélange la splendeur grecque avec l'outrageante 
flétrissure des Temps anciens -- dans un grand tourbillon,
Un soleil, l'ombre d'une Gloire.

"Like a sick eagle" = "Comme un aigle malade"

Authorship

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2010 by Jean-Pierre Granger.

    This author's work falls under the CC BY-SA 2.0 license.


    Jean-Pierre Granger. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
    If you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:

Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2010-11-11
Line count: 14
Word count: 109