Aidan Rooney: Tropical Evening (after Ida Faubert)
The night is bright; the night is dear and raw. With the sun done the moon is on the roses. The heart deep down in everything dozes and tall black palms dream near the water. Jasmines send up star-lit shoots that blend with the clematis. Summer breathing touches heavy fruit. A lavish feeling unveils itself and ravels round a bend. Down there on the path, not a peep, peaceful. Nothing fazes the measure of contentment. Come breathe with me the sidewalk scents and exhale into the night my erratic soul. -- Soir Tropical by Ida Faubert Le soir est lumineux ; le soir est tendre et beau. Le soleil s’est éteint ; la lune est sur les roses. Une langueur pénètre au cœur même des choses… Et les grands palmiers noirs rêvent au bord de l’eau. Les jasmins ont mêlé leurs branches étoilées Aux lianes en fleurs. L’haleine de l’été Caresse les fruits lourds. La grave volupté Laisse traîner son voile au détour des allées. Là-bas, sur le chemin, pas un chant, pas un bruit. Rien ne trouble la paix d’un bonheur qu’on écoute. Viens sentir les parfums sur le bord de la route, Et respirer mon âme éparse dans la nuit. -- “Tropical Evening” is the opening poem in the collection, Cœur des îles, published in Paris (chez René Debresse) in 1939, pages 15-16.
Ida Faubert (1882-1969) was a Haitian writer who was a complex literary figure. Bicultural, biracial, and privileged, she didn't easily fit socially-prescribed categories for women of color in France or Haiti nor did she conform to them. A deft writer and socialite in both Port-au-Prince and Paris, she promoted and participated in the movements of Haitian writers and literature in Haiti and France.
Aidan Rooney’s third collection of poetry is Go There (Madhat, 2020).
Vox Populi 
The evening is bright; the evening is tender and beautiful.
The sun has gone out; the moon settles on the roses.
A languor penetrates the very heart of things…
And the great black palms dream by the water.
The jasmines have mixed their starry branches
With the flowering lianas. The breath of summer
Caresses the heavy fruits. The serious voluptuousness
Leaves its veil at the bend of the alleys.
There, on the path, not a song, not a noise.
Nothing disturbs the peace of a happiness one hears.
Come and smell the perfumes on the roadside,
And breathe my soul scattered in the night.
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What a beautiful poem, Rose Mary! Thanks for the translation!
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Thank you
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