This is a famous French poem by Paul Verlaine, so beautiful yet so simple it is learned by elementary school students in France. Verlaine, despite being married, had a love affair with Arthur Rimbaud, another French poet. It ended in tragedy when Verlaine shot Rimbaud in Belgium following Rimbaud’s attempt to break up with him. Verlaine ended up serving jail time for this and Rimbaud ended up quitting poetry after writing for only three years, nonetheless leaving a beautiful body of work.

It’s impossible to replicate the beauty of the French in English, so here are some readings in French:

The long sighs

Of violins

Of autumn

Pierce my heart--

In a languor,
A monotone.

Suffocating

And pale,

When the hour sounds,

I remember

Days of past,

And weep

And I'm going

With the cursed wind,

Taking me here,

And there,

Dead

As a leaf

Les sanglots longs

Des violons

De l'automne

Blessent mon coeur

D'une langueur

Monotone.

Tout suffocant

Et blême, quand

Sonne l'heure,

Je me souviens

Des jours anciens

Et je pleure

Et je m'en vais

Au vent mauvais

Qui m'emporte

Deçà, delà,

Pareil à la

Feuille morte.