There is something so tragic about a life cut short for whatever reason.  Whether person or animal, the waves of sadness, lament, regret and the sense of something missing lap upon the stable shores of an otherwise normal day, affecting those connected both near and far.

Guillaume Apollinaire, a 20th century French poet wrote a mesmerizing poem called “Le Pont Mirabeau” (The Mirabeau Bridge), that speaks of this connection of the flow of the waters of time and love, joys and sorrows against the stability of the bridge upon which he stood.  I’ll show the original version for those of you who speak or are learning to speak French and an English translation prepared by Richard Wilbur.

Le Pont Mirabeu

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
            Et nos amours
       Faut-il qu’il m’en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine
 
     Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
     Les jours s’en vont je demeure
 
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
            Tandis que sous
       Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l’onde si lasse
 
     Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
     Les jours s’en vont je demeure
 
L’amour s’en va comme cette eau courante
            L’amour s’en va
       Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l’Espérance est violente
 
     Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
     Les jours s’en vont je demeure
 
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
            Ni temps passé
       Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
 
     Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure
     Les jours s’en vont je demeure

 And now in English…

The Mirabeau Bridge

Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine
            Must I recall
     Our loves recall how then
After each sorrow joy came back again            

Let night come on bells end the day
            The days go by me still I stay

Hands joined and face to face let’s stay just so
            While underneath
     The bridge of our arms shall go
Weary of endless looks the river’s flow

            Let night come on bells end the day
            The days go by me still I stay

All love goes by as water to the sea
            All love goes by
     How slow life seems to me
How violent the hope of love can be

            Let night come on bells end the day
            The days go by me still I stay

The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken
            Neither time past
     Nor love comes back again
Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine

            Let night come on bells end the day
            The days go by me still I stay

Each of us stands upon a bridge in life.  The river of time flows gently by, experiences, friends and family come and go, yet as Apollinaire penned so lyrically, “Let night come on bells end the day, The days go by me still I stay.”   

What is the source of your stability and sanity?  What makes it so that you can “stay?”  There is an old saying that might help here.  It goes something like this: “In joy not overjoyed, in sorrow not dejected.”  As in all things, there is a sweet spot in the middle.  “In joy not overjoyed, in sorrow not dejected.”

The sweet spot is enlarged to the degree that you celebrate life and living.  Even if a life is cut short there is ample opportunity to celebrate and give thanks for the life lived, the victories established and the joys sparked by that one.  Mourning is essential, but mourning can be balanced with a focused appreciation for what was wonderful, vibrant and true about the lives of those lost.

Take care today to embrace the world around you today, but remember, “in joy not overjoyed, in sorrow not dejected.”