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Émile Nelligan (December 24, 1879 - November 18, 1941) was a French language poet from Quebec, Canada. December 24 is the 358th day of the year in the Gregorian Calendar (359th in leap years). ...
1879 was a common year starting on Wednesday (see link for calendar). ...
November 18 is the 322nd day of the year (323rd in leap years), with 43 remaining. ...
French (français, langue française) is one of the most important Romance languages, outnumbered in speakers only by Spanish and Portuguese. ...
Poetry (ancient Greek: poieo = create) is an art form in which human language is used for its aesthetic qualities in addition to, or instead of, its notional and semantic content. ...
This article describes the Canadian province. ...
Canada is a sovereign state in northern North America, the northern-most country in the world, and the second largest in total area. ...
Nelligan was born in Montreal to an Irish father and a French-Canadian mother. A follower of Symbolism, his poetry is deeply influenced by Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, Georges Rodenbach, Maurice Rollinat, and Edgar Allan Poe. A precocious talent like Arthur Rimbaud, his first poems were published in Montreal when he was 16 years old. This article needs cleanup. ...
La mort du fossoyeur by Carlos Schwabe is a visual compendium of Symbolist motifs. ...
Charles Baudelaire Charles Pierre Baudelaire (April 9, 1821–August 31, 1867) was one of the most influential French poets. ...
Paul Verlaine (March 30, 1844 - January 8, 1896) is one of the greatest and most popular of French poets. ...
Edgar Allan Poe (January 19, 1809–October 7, 1849) was an American poet, short story writer, editor and critic. ...
Photo of Arthur Rimbaud Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud ( October 20, 1854 – November 10, 1891) was a French poet. ...
In 1899 Nelligan suffered a major psychotic breakdown from which he never recovered. He never had a chance to finish his first poetry work which was to be entitled Le Récital des Anges according to his last notes. 1899 was a common year starting on Sunday (see link for calendar). ...
Psychosis is a psychiatric classification for a mental state in which the perception of reality is distorted. ...
In 1904, his collected poems were published to great acclaim in Canada, an acclaim he never knew. 1904 is a leap year starting on a Friday (link will take you to calendar). ...
On his passing in 1941 Émile Nelligan was interred in the Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges in Montreal, Quebec. Following his death, the public became increasingly interested in Nelligan. His incomplete work will become the object of a myth. He was first translated to English in 1960 by P.F. Widdows. In 1983, Fred Cogswell translated all his poems in The Complete Poems of Émile Nelligan.
Émile Nelligan is considered one of the greatest poets of French Canada. Several schools and libraries in Quebec are named after him. Hotel Nelligan is a four star hotel found in Old Montreal at the corner of Rue St. Paul and Rue St. Sulpice.
Quotation: Le Vaisseau d'Or C'était un grand Vaisseau taillé dans l'or massif:
Ses mâts touchaient l'azur, sur des mers inconnues;
La Cyprine d'amour, cheveux épars, chairs nues,
S'étalait à sa proue, au soleil excessif.
Mais il vint une nuit frapper le grand écueil
Dans l'Océan trompeur où chantait la Sirène,
Et le naufrage horrible inclina sa carène
Aux profondeurs du Gouffre, immuable cercueil.
Ce fut un Vaisseau d'Or, dont les flancs diaphanes
Révélaient des trésors que les marins profanes,
Dégoût, Haine et Névrose, entre eux ont disputés.
Que reste-t-il de lui dans la tempête brève?
Qu'est devenu mon coeur, navire déserté?
Hélas! Il a sombré dans l'abîme du Rêve!
Translation: The Ship of Gold It was a great ship carved from solid gold:
Its masts touched to the skies on uncharted seas;
Venus, goddess of love, her hair streaming, her flesh bare,
Flaunted herself on the prow beneath a blazing sun.
But one night it struck the great reef
In that treacherous ocean where the Siren sang,
And the horrible shipwreck tilted its keel
Into the depths of the abyss, ineluctable coffin.
It was a ship of gold whose diaphanous sides
Revealed treasures which the profane mariners,
Loathing, Hatred, and Neurosis, disputed among themselves.
What remains of it in the brief tempest?
What has become of my heart, a deserted ship?
Alas! It has foundered in the depths of the dream!
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