Tag Archives: French verse

Weekend read: Odd poem: French President Emmanuel Macron, ‘Pour Sophie’

On a trip to Paris one day, little Sophie
Met a giant lady lighting up the night sky.
“What’s your name, you magical monster?”
“My many visitors call me the Eiffel Tower.”
“In all your attire, don’t you sometimes tire
Of being seen only as a humdrum tower?
You, a dragon, a fairy watching over Paris,
An Olympic torch held aloft in grey skies?”
“How you flatter me! So few poets these days
Ever sing the praises of my Parisian soul,
As did Cocteau, Aragon, Cendrars,
Trénet and Apollinaire… Since you’re so good
At seeing beneath the surface, you could
– If you like, when you’re back from France –
Take up your pen and write down
Why you like me – it would be nice and fun!”
“You can count on me! There’s so much to say!
I’ll write twenty lines… but who will read them?”
“Well, I know a man who’ll read your verse.”
“Really? Who?”
“The President of France.”

En voyage à Paris, la petite Sophie
Croisa une géante illuminant la nuit.
“Comment t’appelles-tu, monstre surnaturel?”
“Mes nombreux visiteurs m’appellent Tour Eiffel.”
“N’es-tu pas parfois lasse, avec tes mille atours
Que l’on ne voie en toi qu’une banale tour?
Toi le dragon, la fée, qui veille sur Paris,
Toi, immense flambeau planté dans le ciel gris!”
“Quel plaisir tu me fais! Ils sont devenus rares
Ceux qui comme Cocteau, Aragon ou Cendrars,
Trenet, Apollinaire, avaient su célébrer
Mon âme parisienne aux charmes singuliers.
Puisque tu sais si bien percer les apparences,
Tu pourrais, si tu veux, à ton retour de France,
Prendre à ton tour la plume et conter en anglais
(It would be nice and fun) ce qui chez moi te plaît!”
“Tu peux compter sur moi! Il y a tant à dire!
Je t’écrirai vingt vers… Mais qui voudra les lire?”
“Oh, moi j’en connais un qui lira ton cantique.”
“C’est?”
“Monsieur le président de la République.”

*****

This poem by French President Emmanuel Macron is in French alexandrine: 12 syllable lines, rhyming couplets. The translation is either by him (he is fluent in English) or by the French Embassy in London, as the poem was written for the English girl Sophie’s 13th birthday. She herself had initiated everything with the poem below, which she had sent in April 2017 to the French President… at that time the President was François Hollande, but Macron won the presidency later that year, and responded for Sophie’s birthday on November 1st. Her poem was 20 lines long, written out on her drawing of the Eiffel Tower; his response is also 20 lines long (counting the final question and answer as a single line, which it clearly is by metre and rhyme).

Here is 12-year-old Sophie’s ‘Centre of Attention’:

She has four beautiful legs,
Which help her stand proud,
She looks over everyone,
With her head in the clouds,
She is elegant and tall,
Wears a pretty, lacy skirt,
Whilst staring at her in awe,
Your eyes will not avert,
Her spine is amazingly straight,
Whilst her head touches the sky,
People look up and take pictures of her,
As they are passing on by,
You need to tilt your head up,
To be able to see all of her,
But when you do,
She is as pretty as a picture,
She is the centre of attention,
Noticed by everyone.
She is the Eiffel Tower,
She is second to none.

Macron created a nice circularity with his response to Sophie’s poem, by pretending it was written first and caused Sophie’s poem, rather than the other way round. All very playful.

Photo: “170714-D-PB383-151” by Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Odd poem: French Verse on painting, by Winston Churchill

La peinture á l’huile
Est bien difficile,
Mais c’est beaucoup plus beau
Que la peinture á l’eau.

The translation: “Oil painting / Is certainly hard, / But it’s much lovelier / Than watercolour.” For reasons unknown, Winston Churchill came up with what is almost a Clerihew in style, but in French, as a comment in his little 1948 book ‘Painting as a Pastime‘.

Churchill first took up painting in 1915 at age 40 when he was removed as First Lord of the Admiralty. His fall was a result of the disastrous Dardanelles and Gallipoli attacks on Turkey that he had organised.

He took up painting for distraction, but it became increasingly a part of his life. He didn’t have hopes of making money from his “daubs”, and didn’t consider he had mastered the art. As he wrote in that slim book, “When I get to heaven I mean to spend a considerable portion of my first million years in painting, and so to get to the bottom of the subject.” Early on he submitted and exhibited under pseudonyms as a way of assessing his abilities without the influence of his name. In 1921 he exhibited at Galerie Druet in Paris under the pseudonym Charles Morin and sold six paintings for £30 each. In 1947 he submitted paintings to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition under the name David Winter, and was successful with two of them.

He continued to paint for over 40 years, landscapes when the weather was obliging, still lifes when stuck indoors. Wherever he travelled–Morocco and Egypt, France and Italy, Jamaica, Canada and the US–his easel, brushes and paints went with him and were put to use. He produced at least 500 paintings, giving many away and not keeping records of them. You can see several of his paintings here if you scroll to the bottom.

‘Photo: Churchill painting a view of the Sorgue river in 1948, photographer unknown