La visite de saint
Nicolas
La nuit de Noël,
dans toute la maison,
Nul
être ne bougeait, pas même une souris,
Les
chaussettes pendaient, près de la cheminée,
Espérant
la venue du bon Saint Nicolas,
Les
enfants se nichaient au creux des lits douillets,
Des
rêves de bonbons dansaient dans leurs esprits,
Maman
sous son fichu, et moi sous mon bonnet,
Préparions
nos cerveaux au long sommeil d'hiver,
Quand
de notre pelouse monta un tel fracas,
Que
je sautai du lit voir ce qui se passait,
Volant
à la fenêtre, aussi prompt que l'éclair,
Repoussant
les volets, relevant le châssis.
La
lune qui jouait sur la neige récente,
Donnait
à chaque objet le lustre de midi,
Quand
à mes yeux ravis, devinez qui parut,
Un
tout petit traîneau, huit rennes minuscules.
Un
petit vieux gaillard les menait prestement,
Je
reconnus saint Nick dès le premier moment.
Plus
rapides que l'aigle bondissaient ses coursiers,
Il
sifflait et criait, interpellant chacun :
Allez,
Fougueux !
Danseur ! Allez,
Fringant !
Comète
! Cupidon ! Vite, Elégant ! Éclair !
Sautez
en haut du porche ! Et vite en haut du mur !
Galopez,
galopez ! Filez à toute allure !
Comme
les feuilles mortes que chasse l'ouragan
Rencontrant
un obstacle, remontent vers le ciel,
En
haut de la maison bondissaient les coursiers,
Leur
traîneau plein de jouets, entraînant Nicolas.
Alors,
en un éclair, j'entendis sur le toit
Piaffer
allègrement chaque petit sabot.
Quand
je rentrai la tête pour me retourner
Je
vis saint Nick bondir hors de la cheminée.
Revêtu
de fourrure de la tête aux pieds,
Son
habit tout couvert de cendres et de suie,
Et
un ballot de jouets jeté sur son épaule,
C'était
un camelot prêt à ouvrir son sac.
Ses
yeux, comme ils brillaient ! Ses pommettes joyeuses
Ses
joues au teint fleuri et son nez en cerise !
Sa
drôle de petite bouche tendue comme un arc,
La
barbe à son menton, aussi blanche que neige.
Il
tenait une pipe serrée entre ses lèvres
Un
cercle de fumée auréolait son front,
Il
avait large tête et petit ventre rond,
Qui
tremblait à son rire, comme un bol de gelée.
Joufflu,
dodu, tel un joyeux lutin,
Je
ne pus m'empêcher de rire en le voyant,
En
un petit clin d’œil et un signe de tête,
Il
m'assura bientôt que je ne craignais rien.
Sans
prononcer un mot, il se mit à la tâche,
Et
remplit tous les bas, puis se tourna soudain,
Un
doigt le long du nez, pour un petit salut,
Avant
de remonter dedans la cheminée.
Il
reprit son traîneau, siffla son attelage.
Et
tous s'évaporèrent, tels duvets d'un chardon
Mais je l'entendis
bien crier en s'éloignant :
Joyeux Noël à tous,
et à tous bonne nuit!
Clément
CLARKE MOORE (1823)
A Visit From Saint Nicholash
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, --not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT."
Clément
CLARKE MOORE (1823)
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