Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG OF THE LITTLE HYPERTROPHIC CHILD, by JULES LAFORGUE



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SONG OF THE LITTLE HYPERTROPHIC CHILD, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: It is from a heart sickness / she is dead, the doctor says
Last Line: Is it, mother, you I hear?
Subject(s): Death; Mourning; Singing & Singers; Dead, The; Bereavement; Songs


[La Chanson du petit hypertrophique]

It is from a heart sickness
She is dead, the doctor says,
Tra-la-leer!
Poor mother dear,
And that I'll go below
To play bye-bye with her,
I hear my heartbeat go:
My mother calls me near.

I am laughed at in the streets
For my incongruous hands
La-lu-lid!
Of a drunken kid.
Ah God, every step I go
I choke, I rock with fear.
I hear my heartbeat go:
My mother calls me near.

So then through the fields I go
To sob to the sunsets low,
La-ri-rame!
It's a silly game.
But the sun seems, I don't know,
Like a heart that is rippling clear.
I hear my heartbeat go:
My mother calls me near.

Ah, if little Gen'vieve took
For my bursting heart one look,
Pi-lou-less!
Ah, yes!
I am yellow and sad, I know.
She is rosy, gay, and dear.
I hear my heartbeat go:
My mother calls me near.

No, all the world's all bad,
All but the heart the sunsets had,
Tra-la-leer!
And mother dear,
And I must go down there soon
To play bye-bye with her.
My heart beats on, beats on . . .
Is it, Mother, you I hear?





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