Et maintenant, pieux et monacaux asc\u00e8tes,
\nQu\u2019ont rev\u00eatus mes vers de longs et blancs tissus,
\nHommes des jours lointains et morts, hommes vaincus
\nMais n\u00e9anmoins debout encor, hommes po\u00e8tes,
\nQui ne souffrez plus rien de nos douleurs \u00e0 nous,
\nRien de notre orgueil roux, rien de notre paix noire,
\nQui vivez les yeux droits sur votre Christ d\u2019ivoire,
\nTel que vous devant lui, l\u2019\u00e2me en flamme, \u00e0 genoux,
\nLe front p\u00e2li du r\u00eave o\u00f9 mon esprit s\u2019obstine,
\nJe vivrai seul aussi, tout seul, avec mon art,
\nEt le serrant en mains, ainsi qu\u2019un \u00e9tendard,
\nJe me l\u2019imprimerai si fort sur la poitrine,
\nQu\u2019au travers de ma chair il marquera mon c\u0153ur.
\nCar il ne reste rien que l\u2019art sur cette terre
\nPour tenter un cerveau puissant et solitaire
\nEt le griser de rouge et tonique liqueur.<\/p>\n
Quand tout s\u2019\u00e9branle ou meurt, l\u2019Art est l\u00e0 qui se plante
\nNocturnement b\u00e2ti comme un monument d\u2019or,
\nEt chaque soir, que, dans la paix, le jour s\u2019endort,
\nSa muraille en miroir grandit \u00e9tincelante
\nEt d\u2019un reflet rejette au ciel le firmament.
\nLes po\u00e8tes, venus trop tard pour \u00eatre pr\u00eatres,
\nMarchent vers les lueurs qui tombent des fen\u00eatres
\nEt reluisent ainsi que des plaques d\u2019aimant.
\nLe d\u00f4me ascend si haut que son fa\u00eete est occulte,
\nLes colonnes en sont d\u2019argent et le portail
\nSur la mer rayonnante ouvre au loin son vantail
\nEt le plain-chant des flots se m\u00eale aux voix du culte.
\nLe vent qui passe et qui s\u2019en vient de l\u2019infini
\nEffleure avec des chants myst\u00e9rieux et fr\u00eales
\nLes tours, les grandes tours, qui se toisent entre elles
\nComme des g\u00e9ants noirs de force et de granit,
\nEt quiconque franchit le silence des porches
\nN\u2019aper\u00e7oit rien, sinon, au fond, \u00e0 l\u2019autre bout,
\nUne lyre d\u2019airain qui l\u2019attend l\u00e0, debout,
\nImmobile, parmi la majest\u00e9 des torches.
\nEt ce temple toujours pour nous subsistera
\nEt longtemps et toujours luira dans nos t\u00e9n\u00e8bres,
\nQuand vous, les moines blancs, les asc\u00e8tes fun\u00e8bres
\nAurez disparu tous en lugubre apparat,
\nDans votre froc de lin et votre aube mystique,
\nAu pas religieux d\u2019un long cort\u00e8ge errant,
\nComme si vous portiez \u00e0 votre Dieu mourant,
\nAu fond du monde ath\u00e9e, un dernier viatique.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[271],"poems-book":[680],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-14854","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-271","poems-book-les-moines","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n