To the Trees of Victor Hugo

In his collectionLes Contemplations, Victor Hugo’s lyricism is built upon constant references to nature. For example, the author dedicates a poem Aux Trees of the forest, which he personifies and with which he ultimately identifies, perhaps more so than with his fellow humans. Hugo concludes this hymn to the forest by expressing his desire to be buried « in [its] shadow and in [its] mystery », far from civilization and in anonymity. A burial place on the margins of society, which notably echoes the long years of the author’s exile in Jersey, then Guernsey…

A poem to read and reread in the shade of an “august and solitary branch!” » !

« Trees of the forest, you know my soul !

At the whim of the envious, the crowd praises and blames;

You know me, you! – you have often seen me,

Alone in your depths, watching and dreaming.

You know it, the stone where a beetle crawls,

A humble drop of water fallen from flower to flower,

A cloud, a bird, occupy me for an entire day.

Contemplation fills my heart with love.

You have seen me a hundred times, in the dark valley,

With those words the spirit speaks to nature,

Softly questioning your trembling branches,

And with the same gaze pursuing at once,

Pensive, my brow lowered, my eye in the deep grass,

The study of an atom and the study of the world.

Attentive to your sounds, which all speak a little,

Trees, you have seen me flee man and seek God !

Leaves that tremble at the tips of branches,

Clearings, green valleys, dark and gentle deserts,

You know that I am calm and pure like you.

Like your scents to the sky, my worship rises to God,

And I am full of oblivion as you are of silence !

Hatred spreads its venom on my name in vain ;

Always – I swear to you, o woods loved by the heavens ! –

I have chased far from me every bitter thought,

And my heart is still as my mother made it!

Trees of these great woods, which always shiver,

I love you, and you, ivy at the threshold of silent caves,

Ravines where the living springs trickle,

Bushes plundered by birds, joyful guests!

When I am among you, trees of these great woods,

In all that surrounds me and hides me at once,

In your solitude, where I return to myself,

I feel someone great who listens to me and loves me!

Thus, sacred thickets where even God appears,

Religious trees, oaks, mosses, forest,

Forest! It is in your shadow and in your mystery,

It is under your august and solitary branches,

That I wish to shelter my unknown tomb

And where I wish to sleep when I will fall asleep. »

Image: Drawing by Victor Hugo representing a cluster of trees, titled Nox, 1847 © D.R.Nox, 1847 © D.R.