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Merry Christmas with a bit of poetry and pictures

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I wish you all a marvelous Christmas with the love of family, and the company of good friends…

These are pictures from Strasbourg from the last few days, and a poem to enjoy

The Bells
Edgar Allan Poe 
Les cloches
Edgar Allan Poe
I.
        Hear the sledges with the bells—
                 Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
        How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
      
I.
Écoutez les traîneaux avec les cloches—                  Cloches d’argent!
Quel monde de gaieté leur mélodie prédit!
        Comment elles tintent, tintent, tintent,
  In the icy air of night!
        While the stars that oversprinkle
        All the heavens, seem to twinkle
           With a crystalline delight;
         Keeping time, time, time,
         In a sort of Runic rhyme,
  Dans l’air glacé de la nuit !
        Tandis que les étoiles qui arrosent
        Tous les cieux semblent scintiller
           Avec un délice cristallin;
         Garder le temps, temps, temps,
         Dans une sorte de rime runique,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
       From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, bells, bells—
  From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
A la tintinnabulation qui si bien musicalement
       Des cloches, cloches, cloches, cloches,
               Cloches, cloches, cloches—
  Du tintement et tintement des cloches.
II.
        Hear the mellow wedding bells,
                 Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
        Through the balmy air of night
        How they ring out their delight!
           From the molten-golden notes,
               And all in tune,
           What a liquid ditty floats
II.
        Écoutez les douces cloches du mariage,
                 Cloches d’or !
Quel monde de bonheur annonce leur harmonie !
        A travers l’air doux de la nuit
        Comme elles sonnent leur joie !
           Des notes dorées fondues,
               Et tout en accord,
           Quelle chansonnette liquide flotte
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
               On the moon!
         Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
A la tourterelle qui écoute, tandis qu’elle jubile
               Sur la Lune!
         Oh, depuis les cellules sonores,
Quel jaillissement d’euphonie jaillit à pleins poumons !
 How it swells!
               How it dwells
           On the Future! how it tells
           Of the rapture that impels
         To the swinging and the ringing
           Of the bells, bells, bells,
         Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, bells, bells—
 Qu’est-ce que cela gonfle !
               Comment cela habite
           Sur le futur! 
comment cela raconte
           Du ravissement qui pousse
         Au balancement et au tintement
           Des cloches, cloches, cloches,
         Des cloches, cloches, cloches, cloches,
               Cloches, cloches, cloches—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! Aux rimes et au carillon des cloches !

III.
         Hear the loud alarum bells—
                 Brazen bells!
What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
       In the startled ear of night
       How they scream out their affright!
         Too much horrified to speak,
         They can only shriek, shriek,
                  Out of tune,
III.
         Écoutez les cloches d’alarme bruyantes—
                 Cloches d’airain !
Quelle histoire de terreur, maintenant, leur turbulence raconte!
       Dans l’oreille effrayée de la nuit
       Comme elles crient leur effroi !
         Trop horrifié pour parler,
         Elles ne peuvent que crier, crier,
                  Désaccordé,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
            
Dans un appel retentissant à la miséricorde du feu,
Dans une polémique folle avec le feu sourd et frénétique,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
            With a desperate desire,
         And a resolute endeavor
         Now—now to sit or never,
       By the side of the pale-faced moon.
            Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
            What a tale their terror tells
                  Of Despair!
  Sautant plus haut, plus haut, plus haut,
            D’un désir désespéré,
         Et un effort résolu
         Maintenant—s’asseoir maintenant ou jamais,
       A côté de la lune au visage pâle.
            Oh, les cloches, les cloches, les cloches !
            Quelle histoire leur terreur raconte
                  du désespoir !
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
       What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
      
    Comme elles s’entrechoquent, s’entrechoquent et rugissent !
       Quelle horreur elles déversent
Au sein de l’air palpitant !
 Yet the ear it fully knows,
            By the twanging,
            And the clanging,
         How the danger ebbs and flows;
       Yet the ear distinctly tells,
            In the jangling,
            And the wrangling.
    
 Pourtant l’oreille sait parfaitement,
            Par le tintement,
            Et le tintement,
         Comment le danger va et vient ;
       Pourtant l’oreille dit distinctement,
            Dans le cliquetis,
            Et les disputes.
   How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
             Of the bells—
     Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
            Bells, bells, bells—
 In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
Comment le danger coule et enfle,
Par le naufrage ou le gonflement dans la colère des cloches—
             Des cloches—
     Des cloches, cloches, cloches, cloches,
            Cloches, cloches, cloches—
 Dans la clameur et le tintement des cloches !
IV.
          Hear the tolling of the bells—
                 Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
        In the silence of the night,
        How we shiver with affright
  At the melancholy menace of their tone!
        For every sound that floats
        From the rust within their throats
                 Is a groan.
        And the people—ah, the people—
       They that dwell up in the steeple,
                 All alone,
        And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
          In that muffled monotone,
IV.
          Entendez le tintement des cloches—
                 cloches de fer !
Quel monde de pensée solennelle oblige leur monodie !
        Dans le silence de la nuit,
        Comment nous frissonnons d’effroi
  A la menace mélancolique de leur ton !
        Pour chaque son qui flotte
        De la rouille dans leur gorges
                 Est un gémissement.
        Et les gens—ah, les gens—
       Ceux qui habitent dans le clocher,
                 Tout seul,
        Et qui sonne, sonne, sonne,
          Dans ce monotone feutré,
  Feel a glory in so rolling
          On the human heart a stone—
     They are neither man nor woman—
     They are neither brute nor human—
              They are Ghouls:
        And their king it is who tolls;
        And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
                    Rolls
             
      Sentez-vous une gloire dans un tel roulement
          Sur le cœur humain une pierre—
     Ils ne sont ni homme ni femme—
     Ils ne sont ni brutaux ni humains—
              Ce sont des goules :
        Et c’est leur roi qui sonne ;
        Et il roule, roule, roule,
                    Roule
A pæan from the bells!
          And his merry bosom swells
             With the pæan of the bells!
          And he dances, and he yells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
             To the pæan of the bells—
               Of the bells:
 
    Un pæan des cloches !
          Et son joyeux sein se gonfle
             Avec le pæan des cloches !
          Et il danse, et il crie ;
          Garder le temps, temps, temps,
          Dans une sorte de rime runique,
             Au pæan des cloches—
               Des cloches :
         Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
            To the throbbing of the bells—
          Of the bells, bells, bells—
            To the sobbing of the bells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
            As he knells, knells, knells,
          Garder le temps, temps, temps,
          Dans une sorte de rime runique,
            Au son des cloches—
          Des cloches, cloches, cloches—
            Aux sanglots des cloches ;
          Garder le temps, temps, temps,
            Comme il sonne, sonne, sonne,
          In a happy Runic rhyme,
            To the rolling of the bells—
          Of the bells, bells, bells—
            To the tolling of the bells,
      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—
              Bells, bells, bells—
  To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
          Dans une joyeuse rime runique,
            Au roulement des cloches—
          Des cloches, cloches, cloches—
            Au son des cloches,
      Des cloches, cloches, cloches, cloches—
              Cloches, cloches, cloches—
  Au gémissement et au gémissement des cloches.

Merry Christmas

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