La terre est au soleil ce que l\u2019homme est \u00e0 l\u2019ange.
\nL\u2019un est fait de splendeur ; l\u2019autre est p\u00e9tri de fange.
\nToute \u00e9toile est soleil ; tout astre est paradis.
\nAutour des globes purs sont les mondes maudits ;
\nEt dans l\u2019ombre, o\u00f9 l\u2019esprit voit mieux que la lunette,
\nLe soleil paradis tra\u00eene l\u2019enfer plan\u00e8te.
\nL\u2019ange habitant de l\u2019astre est faillible ; et, s\u00e9duit,
\nIl peut devenir l\u2019homme habitant de la nuit.
\nVoil\u00e0 ce que le vent m\u2019a dit sur la montagne.<\/p>\n
Tout globe obscur g\u00e9mit ; toute terre est un bagne
\nO\u00f9 la vie en pleurant, jusqu\u2019au jour du r\u00e9veil,
\nVient \u00e9crouer l\u2019esprit qui tombe du soleil.
\nPlus le globe est lointain, plus le bagne est terrible.
\nLa mort est l\u00e0, vannant les \u00e2mes dans un crible,
\nQui juge, et, de la vie invisible t\u00e9moin,
\nRapporte l\u2019ange \u00e0 l\u2019astre ou le jette plus loin.<\/p>\n
\u00d4 globes sans rayons et presque sans aurores !
\n\u00c9norme Jupiter fouett\u00e9 de m\u00e9t\u00e9ores,
\nMars qui semble de loin la bouche d\u2019un volcan,
\n\u00d4 nocturne Uranus, \u00f4 Saturne au carcan !
\nCh\u00e2timents inconnus ! r\u00e9demptions ! myst\u00e8res !
\nDeuils ! \u00f4 lunes encor plus mortes que les terres !
\nIls souffrent ; ils sont noirs ; et qui sait ce qu\u2019ils font ?
\nL\u2019ombre entend par moments leur cri rauque et profond,
\nComme on entend, le soir, la plainte des cigales.
\nMondes spectres, tirant des cha\u00eenes in\u00e9gales,
\nIls vont, bl\u00eames, pareils au r\u00eave qui s\u2019enfuit.
\nRougis confus\u00e9ment d\u2019un reflet dans la nuit,
\nImplorant un messie, esp\u00e9rant des ap\u00f4tres,
\nSeuls, s\u00e9par\u00e9s, les uns en arri\u00e8re des autres,
\nTristes, \u00e9chevel\u00e9s par des souffles hagards,
\nJetant \u00e0 la clart\u00e9 de farouches regards,
\nCeux-ci, vagues, roulant dans les profondeurs mornes,
\nCeux-l\u00e0, presque engloutis dans l\u2019infini sans bornes,
\nT\u00e9n\u00e9breux, frissonnants, froids, glac\u00e9s, pluvieux,
\nAutour du paradis ils tournent envieux ;
\nEt, du soleil, parmi les brumes et les ombres,
\nOn voit passer au loin toutes ces faces sombres.<\/p>\n
Novembre 1840.<\/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":[224],"poems-book":[225],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[206],"class_list":["post-9218","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-224","poems-book-les-contemplations","poete-victor-hugo"],"yoast_head":"\n