NO, I AM NOT AS OTHERS ARE

by: François Villon (1431-1489)

      O, I am not, as others are,
      Child of the angels, with a wreath
      Of planets or of any star.
      My father's dead, and lies beneath
      The churchyard stone: God rest his breath!
      I know that my poor old mother
      (And she too knows) must come to death,
      And that her son must follow her.
       
      I know that rich and poor and all,
      Foolish and wise, and priest and lay,
      Mean folk and noble, great and small,
      High and low, fair and foul, and they
      That wore rich clothing on the way,
      Being of whatever stock or stem,
      And are coiffed newly every day,
      Death shall take every one of them.
       
      Paris and Helen are both dead.
      Whoever dies, dies with much pain;
      For when his wind and breath are sped
      His gall breaks on his heart, and then
      He sweats, God knows that sweat of men!
      Then shall he pray against his doom
      Child, brother, sister, all in vain:
      None will be surety in his room.
       
      Death makes him tremble and turn pale,
      His veins stretch and his nose fall in,
      His flesh grow moist and his neck swell,
      Joints and nerves lengthen and wax thin;
      Body of woman, that hath been
      Soft, tender, precious, smooth and even,
      Must thou be spoiled in bone and skin?
      Yes, or else go alive to heaven.

"No, I am not as Others are" was translated into English by Arthur Symons (1865-1945).

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