Liberty
by Paul Eluard (1942)
On my school notebooks
On my desk and on the trees
On the sands, on the snow
I write your name
On all the pages I've read
On all the pages that are blank
Stone, blood, paper or ashes
I write your name
On the gold images
On the warriors' weapons
On the crown of kings
I write your name
On the jungle and the desert
On the nests on the bushes
On the echo of my childhood
I write your name
On the wonders of nights
On the white bread of day
On the seasons of brides
I write your name
On all my rags of blue
On the musty pond in sunlight
On the living lake in moonlight
I write your name
On the fields, on the horizon
On the wings of the birds
And on the windmill of shadows
I write your name
On each breath of daybreak
On the sea, on the boats
On the mad mountaintop
I write your name
On the foam of the clouds
On the sweat of the storm
On dull, heavy rain
I write your name
On the glittering forms
On their ringing colors
On the physical truth
I write your name
On the awakened trails
On the routes deployed
On the crowded squares
I write your name
On the lamp that is lit
On the lamp that is not
On homes reunited
I write your name
On the fruit cut in two
Of the mirror and my room
On the empty shell of my bed
I write your name
On my dog, that loyal fresser
On his perked-up ears
On his klutzy paws
I write your name
On the ramp to my door
On everyday objects
On the roar of the hearth
I write your name
On flesh in rapport
On the foreheads of my friends
On each outstretched hand
I write your name
On the window of surprises
On expectant lips
Far above the silence
I write your name
On my hideouts destroyed,
On my lighthouses, collapsed,
On the walls of my tsuris
I write your name
On absence purged of desire
On naked solitude
On the death marches
I write your name
On recovered health
On danger long past
On hope free of memories
I write your name
And by the power of one word
I begin my life again
I was born to know you
To name you
Liberty.
–translated by j.w.
« Liberté »
Paul Eluard wrote this poem in Paris in 1942, and it was published in an underground edition in occupied France on 3 April of that year.
Then in June, Eluard was persuaded to allow the poem to be reprinted in the magazine Fontaine, to be circulated in the southern part of France governed by Marshall Pétain's regime based in Vichy. Max-Pol Fouchet, the editor of Fontaine, tells of how Eluard thought that publishing the poem in Vichy France was sheer lunacy, because it was bound to get both of them in serious trouble with the censor and the government.
According to Fouchet, the poem was then examined by the French censor, in the company of the relevant German and Italian officials. When he was presented with a poem of 21 stanzas, with each stanza ending with the line, "I write your name", the censor became so bored that he couldn't be bothered to read it all the way to the end. He declared, "These poets are rambling. I write your name, I write your name! Let him write it already, and let's not talk about it anymore!" Then he asked Fouchet, "What is this, some kind of love poem?" and Fouchet answered "Yes."
And that's how the poem got past the Vichy government's censors.
The story is told here:
http://www.maxpolfouchet.com/images/stories/Oeuvre/Fontaine/aproposdupoemelibertinfontaine22.pdf
Then a couple months later, the poem was reprinted in England by the official Gaullist magazine La France libre. The Royal Air Force then loaded thousands of copies of the poem onto their planes and dropped them by parachute over occupied France.
And still later, in January of 1943, the poem was published in Switzerland, with copies again making their way back to occupied France.
The original text, along with the backstory, can be found here:
https://www.poemes.co/liberte-paul-eluard.html
You can hear Paul Eluard himself read his poem here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bktcB5QpNp0
It was Paul Valéry who is reported to have said, "A poem is never finished, only abandoned," and it's the same with translations. There's probably a minor howler or two lurking somewhere in my version, but the process of second-guessing can be drawn out forever.
Some of the lines are fairly obscure in the French -- as borne out by the fact that the translations of those lines vary so widely. However (1) interpretation varies from translator to translator, with some of them opting for wording that's equally obscure in English, and (2) even though Paul Eluard started out as one of the original Surrealists (e.g. collaborating with André Breton on L'Immaculée Conception in 1930), by 1938 he had broken away from Breton and the movement, became politically committed, and during WWII was active in the French Resistance and a member of the Communist Party. So despite the ambiguity of some of the wording, I'm sure he was writing with a wider audience in mind.
