It’s raining tears in my heart
Paul Verlaine was born in Metz in 1844, but grew up in Paris. He gets married, and is reconciled to living a sham uneventful life of a petit bourgeois, until he meets Rimbaud, when the lid blows off. He leaves wife and child and runs away with the younger poet. After shooting Rimbaud, he spends time in prison, and would later move to London. His poetry is lyrical and melancholic, and does not usually reflect the tumultuous conflicts in his mind.
It’s raining tears in my heart
In my heart, tears are pouring down
As the rain comes flooding the town
What is this languorous feeling
Which leaves my heart reeling?
Oh sweet pitter patter of raindrops
On the ground, and on the rooftops
Oh nothing to temper the strain
As does the sweet melody of the rain
It’s raining for no reason
In that heart ripped apart
No cause, no treason
For this mourning, no reason
No pain can be greater
Than when unknown is the trigger
No passion, no ill-feeling
My heart knows so much suffering!
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville ;
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon coeur ?
Ô bruit doux de la pluie
Par terre et sur les toits !
Pour un coeur qui s’ennuie,
Ô le chant de la pluie !
Il pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s’écoeure.
Quoi ! nulle trahison ?…
Ce deuil est sans raison.
C’est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi
Sans amour et sans haine
Mon coeur a tant de peine !
