PoEtRy Of LeS mIsÉrAbLeS


This is written by Ann Rostedt and deals with Marius' thoughts of Éponine...

I Never Knew...

I didn't know she loved me

I never had a clue

She only was a memory

faded from my view

Her childish ways were pleasing

her girlish laughter dear

Yet nothing she would try to do

could draw or leer me near

She lived her life a hard one

a child of the poor

Her family didn't give a damn

nor anyone less or more

When I had lost all hope in God

she came to comfort me

But all I did was turn aside

to grumble troubles and plee

She only tried to dry my eyes

and make me smile within

She did a favor for me

found my precious love again

She took me to the house

at 55 Rue Plumet

Although it hurt her deeply

she pretended not to care

And when my love, Cosette,

was sworn to go away

I traveled to the barricades

to fight my final day

We students fought our bravest

crying as we fell

The barricades lay bloody

like the battle fields of hell

But yet I didn't care

my life was nothing then

Without Cosette I had no hope

of happiness again

And when the gun was aimmed

its barrel like a knife

The young boy blocked the bullet

that would have surely killed my life

I ran into the darkness

hiding away my past

Only to emerge and hear

the whisper of a lass

...

I stumbled to the pavement

trembling as I fell

Her wretched body soaked in blood

Oh, God the awful smell

Her words were staggard sighs

"Please stay," she pleaded me

I took her body in my arms

craddled it against my knee

She smiled sweetly in my face

lied about the pain

Placed my hand upon her side

a letter in my name

"Take it," she murmured softly, "but

remember when I'm gone..."

"...to kiss me on the forehead..."

"...I shall feel it from beyond..."

Her eye lids fluttered closed

I thought she must be dead

I did believe the poor soul gone

the limpness of her head

She opened up her eyes so bright

and managed a smile too

She gave her last true hearted words

"Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a

little in love with you."

She expired as she smiled pure

resting against my side

I kissed her lightly on the head

and moments later cried

I never knew she cherished so

each word or smile of mine

I never relized all my acts

were unfaithful, unpure and blind

I never saw her standing there

I didn't care to see

Prehaps all that I cared about

was the happiness of me

So as I sit beside your soul

upon the pavement cold

I only ask one final thing

of you to free this hold

Forgive me Eponine

forgive me in thee end

...

For all you ever wanted

was the love of one true friend


This is written by .. someone.. and it is not *about* Les Miz, but we find it relative to Éponine.

The Street

..

A long and silent street

I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall

and rise, and I walk blind, my feet

stepping on silent stones and dry leaves

..

Everything dark and doorless

Turning and turning among these corners

which lead forever to the street

where nobody waits for, nobody follows me

where I pursue a man who stumbles

and rises and says when he sees me: nobody


This is written by Claude McKay - also a relative poem.

.

If We Must Die

...

If we must die - let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursed lot.

If we must die - Oh, let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

Oh, kinsmen! We must meet the common foe;

Though far outnumbered, let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we'll face the murderous cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

..


These next three wonderful poems are written by Kirsten.

Eponine's Prayer

..

If I believed in you, lord, I'd ask you one last grace

One final gift from you, lord, before I leave this place

I'd ask for him to love me, to hold me to his heart

I'd ask a new life for us all, a new chance, a new start

..

If I believed in you, lord, I'd ask why things are so

That short years can do this, lord, can make me sink so low

I'd ask you what your plan was, why this misery I feel?

Did you create me just to hurt, are my worst fears real?

..

If I believed in you, lord, I'd ask why I must go

So many questions left, lord, so much that I don't know

I don't regret the end of life, I only wish I knew

Why prayers seem so useless, why I don't believe in you.


Caged

(About Little Cosette)

Sing, little bird, sing out your song

Sing of a life you'll never know

Tell all the world how trapped you've been

Tell how you wish you were free to go

...

Sing of the world, the world outside

Brilliant and blazing, filled with life

You wish to fly, let your wings unfurl

To join the brightest colours of the world...

...

A bird in a cage is loved, but still

Freedom is longed for when denied

Safety and comfort, golden bars

Freedom is lost when one must hide

...

Sing, little bird, sing for us both

Sing of a life I long to see

Bring me the world and a golden key

Open the doors, let me be free


REGRET

..

I saw the young men marching, saw them pass me in the street

I heard their cries for freedom, heard the drum toll out its beat

They cried for us to join them, and I marched beside awhile

I saw their leader, golden man, I saw their hopeful smiles

..

I marched there with them just a while, till fear began to grow

I knew what they were doing and I wondered did they know

That bravery is not a match for gendarmes cruel guns

That their struggle for a bright new world would end ere it begun

..

I left the young men marching, let them pass me in the street

Their bravery, my own dark fears, forced me into retreat

I could not stand there with them they were better men than I

And daybreak found them cold and dead when sunlight lit the sky

..

I remember young men marching, how could I ever forget?

The cowardice that drove me fills each day with such regret

They died all but forgotten by the people they fought for

Yet though I shall live far longer, those brave men were worth far more.

...


An Ode to Les Miserables - by Anneponine

--

The lights dim, your music starts

You take complete control of the audience's hearts

The songs in you, they make us cry

your happy endings make us sigh

And yet your history is a deeper one

It's true

Your characters, they once were real

And still are real today

For everywhere I look I see Fantine or Javert

In myself I see Eponine and Enjolras

But mostly I see the Thenardiers

in myself as well as others

Where have the Jean ValJean's gone?

They are still here and always will be

And if you look, you will always find them

The problems then, still live on

As you do, always in our hearts

Why is your music so captivating?

Why does your story always seem so new?

Your fans, determined to live out your hopes and dreams

We live as one in you

I've never stopped to think

how much you changed my life

You gave me hope, a future

And wisdom of the world

So while to some, you're just a play

To me, you are today.

You are Les Miserables

forever.


Mme Bahorel write these two in French:

"Au Dieu Vivant Qui Meurt" (Enjolras)

--

Un dieu peut mourir? C'est impossible! mais, c'est vrai.

Le beau jeune dieu est mort, et le monde lui manque.

Où êtes-vous, mon jeun homme du ciel?

Êtes-vous rentré sans nous dire "adieu"? Dites "non",

monsieur.

L'armé vous a pris de nous. Vous êtes rentré, mais vous

reviendrez,

N'est-ce pas? Vous êtes mort sur une barricade, le dernier

Corps. Vous vouliez un nouveau monde, qui se lève

comme

Le Soleil, mais où est ce monde? Nous sommes

Abandonnés, vous nous abandonnez. Aidez-moi, mon

jeune homme du

Soleil. Aidez-moi à comprendre votre morte.

Le fusil ne pouvait pas vous tué. Vous allez

Vivre aux coeurs des hommes, où habite la misère.

Les misérables vous connaissent, et ils vous aiment.

Vous les connaissiez, et vous êtes mort pour eux.

Nous vous aimions quand vous viviez, le beau dieu de

Soleil. Vous, mon frère, étiez le dieu vivant. Tu étais mon

Ami, mon camrade. Un autre révolutionnaire.

On a tué ton corps, mais pas ton âme. Ton âme

Vivrait aux coeurs des hommes, et au bout de mon coeur.

Le beau dieu vivant est mort, mais il reste dans mon coeur

qui pleur.


"D'être revolutionnaire"

D'être revolutionnaire: qu'est-ce que c'est?

D'être tué par l'armé de votre pays?

De tuer vos frères pour un morceau de pain?

De donner, à un futur inconnu, votre vie?

Oui, c'est tous ces choses, et quelques plus grandes.

C'est de passer votre vie avec vos amis.

C'est de voir la misère sans devenu un des misérables,

De comprendre que la terre n'est pas sans espoir,

De mourir pour la patrie, pas le roi, pas le pays. Pour le

peuple.

Le rouge et le noir sont le deux couleurs de la terre, à vos

yeux.

L'espoir est rouge, somme le soleil à l'aube d'un beau jour.

La misère est noire, comme un nuit sans étoiles, très

obscure.

Le revolutionnaire sait comment on peut tourne le noir en

rouge.

Ça, c'est d'être revolutionnaire


Little people know when little people fight

Email: reme@online.no