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When the Child Appears
by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
translated from French by Bruce Phenix
When the child appears, the family’s loud praise
Bursts out in claps and shouting. His sweet, bright gaze
__Makes everyone’s eyes bright.
And the saddest brows, their clouds too dark to clear,
Seeing the innocent, joyful child appear,
__Unwrinkle at the sight.
Green June about my door, or November’s gloom,
When round a great fire flickering in the room
__The chairs touch one another—
Whenever the child comes, joy brings us its light.
We laugh, we call him; and his first steps delight
__His watching, trembling mother.
Sometimes we discuss, as we stir up the blaze,
Our country, God, the poets, the soul that prays
And in its prayer ascends;
The child appears: to heaven and country farewell,
And to the holy poets! Our smiles dispel
The solemn talk, which ends.
At night-time, when man’s spirit dreams as he sleeps,
And when amid the reeds, like a voice that weeps,
The water’s sighs are heard,
If the dawn, like the flash of a beacon, breaks,
At its light in the fields a fanfare awakes
__Of every bell and bird.
Child, you are the dawn, and my soul is the plain
Whose breath, when you breathe it, is sure to contain
__The sweetest scent of flowers;
My soul is the forest for you alone filled
With soft, gentle murmurs and sunbeams that gild
__The darkness of its bowers!
An infinite sweetness fills your lovely eyes,
An innocence of wrongdoing sanctifies
__Your joyful little hands;
Never have you touched our mire with your young tread,
Fair-haired child! Lovely angel whose sacred head
__Is haloed with gold strands!
O Dove from the Ark to us you come among!
Your tender, pure feet cannot walk while so young.
__Sky blue is in your wings.
You look at the world, unsure what it may mean.
Twice virgin! Body free from all things unclean,
__Soul from all impure things!
Yes, how lovely the child is, with his sweet smile,
His all-expressing voice, his sweet lack of guile,
__His tears so quickly dried;
He offers, as he turns his amazed, entranced stare,
His mouth to kisses, and to life everywhere
__His young soul open wide!
Lord! Let me never, nor let those I love most—
Brothers, parents, friends—nor enemies who boast
__Of evil running wild,
See a summer, Lord, with no red flowers, or see
A cage without a bird, a hive with no bee,
__A home without a child.
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Original French
Lorsque l’enfant paraît
Lorsque l’enfant paraît, le cercle de famille
Applaudit à grands cris. Son doux regard qui brille
Fait briller tous les yeux,
Et les plus tristes fronts, les plus souillés peut-être,
Se dérident soudain à voir l’enfant paraître,
Innocent et joyeux.
Soit que juin ait verdi mon seuil, ou que novembre
Fasse autour d’un grand feu vacillant dans la chambre
Les chaises se toucher,
Quand l’enfant vient, la joie arrive et nous éclaire.
On rit, on se récrie, on l’appelle, et sa mère
Tremble à le voir marcher.
Quelquefois nous parlons, en remuant la flamme,
De patrie et de Dieu, des poètes, de l’âme
Qui s’élève en priant;
L’enfant paraît, adieu le ciel et la patrie
Et les poètes saints! la grave causerie
S’arrête en souriant.
La nuit, quand l’homme dort, quand l’esprit rêve, à l’heure
Où l’on entend gémir, comme une voix qui pleure,
L’onde entre les roseaux,
Si l’aube tout à coup là-bas luit comme un phare,
Sa clarté dans les champs éveille une fanfare
De cloches et d’oiseaux.
Enfant, vous êtes l’aube et mon âme est la plaine
Qui des plus douces fleurs embaume son haleine
Quand vous la respirez;
Mon âme est la forêt dont les sombres ramures
S’emplissent pour vous seul de suaves murmures
Et de rayons dorés!
Car vos beaux yeux sont pleins de douceurs infinies,
Car vos petites mains, joyeuses et bénies,
N’ont point mal fait encor;
Jamais vos jeunes pas n’ont touché notre fange,
Tête sacrée! enfant aux cheveux blonds! bel ange
À l’auréole d’or!
Vous êtes parmi nous la colombe de l’arche.
Vos pieds tendres et purs n’ont point l’âge où l’on marche,
Vos ailes sont d’azur.
Sans le comprendre encor vous regardez le monde.
Double virginité! corps où rien n’est immonde,
Âme où rien n’est impur!
Il est si beau, l’enfant, avec son doux sourire,
Sa douce bonne foi, sa voix qui veut tout dire,
Ses pleurs vite apaisés,
Laissant errer sa vue étonnée et ravie,
Offrant de toutes parts sa jeune âme à la vie
Et sa bouche aux baisers!
Seigneur! préservez-moi, préservez ceux que j’aime,
Frères, parents, amis, et mes ennemis même
Dans le mal triomphants,
De jamais voir, Seigneur! l’été sans fleurs vermeilles,
La cage sans oiseaux, la ruche sans abeilles,
La maison sans enfants.
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Bruce Phenix worked as a civil servant in England from 1983 until his retirement in 2021, in various administrative roles in transport and environment. He has a longstanding interest in foreign languages and other cultures and his translations have been published in numerous, including in the Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces. He also has extensive experience, over a period of 35 years, in giving English language support to students from Far Eastern backgrounds. He won the Yeats Club’s 1989 Catullus Award for the best translation from an ancient language.
Beautiful endearing sentiments about a young child in this poem and a great rhyming translation. Thank you, Bruce, for translating it.
Thank you so much for your kind and positive response, Roy! I’m delighted you enjoyed this lovely poem and my attempt to express it in English. Best wishes, Bruce
Most of all, Bruce, a wonderful selection to translate! Hugo’s poem is an exquisite characterization both of a young child, and of the delightfully charming effect that stage of life can create among those capable of comprehending it. Your translation is admirably faithful to detail, not just to the diverse images and concepts unified in contemplation of infancy, but to little bits of repetition and wordplay that appear in your English as well as in the French original. I can hear even the speaker’s mostly hidden lament over what may happen to a young soul fully open to life. That comes through along with the prayer that includes an appeal for callously “triumphant” enemies in the final stanza. Splendid presentation!
I’m very grateful for your positive and encouraging response, Margaret, as always full of understanding and sensitivity. I really appreciate all you’ve said about both the original and my translation. Best wishes, Bruce
It could not have been easy to translate Victor Hugo but I believe you have done him justice as the sentiments shine throughout the poem beautifully. Thank you for choosing to translate this poem , there is something eternal about it.
Thank you, Maria – what a kind and generous comment! I agree with you completely that the sentiments of the original are timeless. Best wishes, Bruce
Thank you for sharing this beautiful translation! Victor Hugo has such an incredible gift in crafting metaphors and analogies that are powerful and poignant, and this comes through so beautifully through this translation. Not to get too personal, but in my present experience as a parent this poem really hit the spot today. Thank you again!
Josh, I really value your generous comments on the translation. I very much agree with you about Hugo and am touched to hear that the poem resonated with you personally. Best wishes, Bruce