The First of January

 by Brett Rutherford

Translated from Victor Hugo, l'Annee Terrible, "January 1871"

As you grow up, you will later be told
how your grandfather adored you;
that he did his best on earth,
with little joy and hounded by envy,
that when you were little, he was old,
that he had no gruff words or morose looks,
and that he left you in the rose season;
that he died, that he was a merciful man;
that, in the famous winter of the great bombardment,
he crossed that tragic Paris full of swords,
to bring you all those toys and dolls
and puppets, making a thousand comic gestures;
and thinking of him you will grow pensive
     beneath the trees’ dark shade remembering.