Paul Verlaine, a central figure in French Symbolism, achieved enduring literary relevance through his musical, emotionally charged verse. His 1874 collection Romances sans paroles (Songs without Words) epitomizes his poetic innovation and sensitivity, capturing fleeting moods and intimate feelings with a delicate precision that profoundly influenced modern poetry.
Spleen – Romances sans paroles – Paul Verlaine – 1874 – with translations from 🇫🇷 French into 🇬🇧 English and 🇮🇹 Italian by Enzo Martinelli
© 2026 Enzo Martinellip
Composed during a turbulent period of Verlaine’s life – including his tumultuous relationship with fellow poet Arthur Rimbaud – Romances sans paroles reflects both emotional volatility and lyrical refinement. The poems, often impressionistic and rhythmically fluid, eschew narrative clarity in favor of musicality and suggestion. In doing so, Verlaine fulfills his famous dictum: “De la musique avant toute chose” (“Music before all else”).
What makes this collection especially significant is how it foreshadows Symbolism’s core aesthetic values: ambiguity, synesthetic imagery, and the evocation of emotion over direct meaning. Nature, love, melancholy, and silence emerge not through declarative statements but through subtle tonal shifts and evocative language. In poems like “Il pleure dans mon cœur,” Verlaine blurs the boundary between sound and sense, turning poetry into an atmospheric experience.
Romances sans paroles remains a cornerstone of French poetry, demonstrating Verlaine’s unmatched ability to marry emotion and form, and shaping the trajectory of lyrical poetry for generations.
🇫🇷 – Spleen, de Paul Verlaine
Les roses étaient toutes rouges
Et les lierres étaient tout noirs.
Chère, pour peu que tu te bouges
Renaissent tous mes désespoirs.
Le ciel était trop bleu, trop tendre,
La mer trop verte et l’air trop doux.
Je crains toujours, — ce qu’est d’attendre
Quelque fuite atroce de vous.
Du houx à la feuille vernie
Et du luisant buis je suis las,
Et de la campagne infinie
Et de tout, fors de vous, hélas !
🇬🇧 – Spleen, by Paul Verlaine
The roses were all red
And the ivy was all black.
My dear, if only you would stir,
All my despair would be reborn.
The sky was too blue, too tender,
The sea too green and the air too mild.
I still fear — what it is to wait
For some dreadful flight from you.
I am weary of the holly with its glossy leaves
And of the gleaming boxwood,
And of the endless countryside
And of everything, save you, alas!
🇮🇹 – Spleen, di Paul Verlaine
Le rose erano tutte rosse
E l’edera era tutta nera.
Cara, basta che tu ti muova
E tutte le mie disperazioni rinascono.
Il cielo era troppo blu, troppo tenero,
Il mare troppo verde e l’aria troppo dolce.
Temo sempre — ciò che significa aspettare
Qualche atroce fuga da te.
Sono stanco dell’agrifoglio dalle foglie lucide
E del bosso scintillante,
E della campagna infinita
E di tutto, tranne che di te, ahimè!
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