La bise se rue à travers
Les buissons tout noirs et tout verts,
Glaçant la neige éparpillée,
Dans la campagne ensoleillée.
L’odeur est aigre près des bois,
L’horizon chante avec des voix,
Les coqs des clochers des villages
Luisent crûment sur les nuages,
C’est délicieux de marcher
À travers ce brouillard léger
Qu’un vent taquin parfois retrousse.
Ah ! fi de mon vieux feu qui tousse !
J’ai des fourmis plein les talons.
Debout, mon âme, vite, allons !
C’est le printemps sévère encore,
Mais qui par instants s’édulcore
D’un souffle tiède juste assez
Pour mieux sentir les froids passés
Et penser au Dieu de clémence…
Va, mon âme, à l’espoir immense !

Night funeral
In Harlem:

Where did they get
Them two fine cars?

Insurance man, he did not pay–
His insurance lapsed the other day–
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.

Night funeral
In Harlem:

Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?

Them flowers came
from that poor boy’s friends–
They’ll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.

Night funeral
in Harlem:

Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?

Old preacher man
Preached that boy away–
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.

Night funeral
In Harlem:

When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear–
That boy that
they was mournin’
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man–
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy’s
Funeral grand.

Night funeral
In Harlem.

Lumi del cimitero, non mi dite
che la sera d’estate non è bella.
E belli sono i bevitori dentro
le lontane osterie.

Muovonsi come fregi
antichi sotto il cielo
nuovo di stelle.

Lumi del cimitero, calmi diti
contano lente sere. Non mi dite
che la notte d’estate non è bella.