As night falls we common citizens of Paris pass the news from mouth to mouth, and every media tells the same story. A thousand cameras tell the bitter truth, the flames devour your mighty structure.
A Parisian railway worker watches Notre Dame burning on April 15th, 2019
Notre Dame burning, April 15th 2019
As night falls we common citizens of Paris
pass the news from mouth to mouth,
and every media tells the same story.
A thousand cameras tell the bitter truth,
the flames devour your mighty structure.
Our Notre Dame,
once proud Queen of the Seine,
Is surely burning to the ground.
But how should I understand the loss?
Religion just passed me by,
I am but a humble railway worker.
And do many in the watching crowds,
See more than a shattering spectacle?
Great Notre Dame,
Are you indeed no more
than a broken pile of stones?
True, here and there, huddled together,
small groups kneel and pray the Rosary,
and some sing the Salve Regina:
Mother of mercy to thee do we cry!
For them, I suppose, you are indeed an inspiration.
But, Notre Dame,
My faith lies in the Party,
And you never did that for me.
Yet I know I will feel your loss acutely.
Some whisper that your burning is but a sign.
Sic transit gloria mundi they say,
thus will pass all worldly trappings.
Yes, but for me you are more than earthly glories,
dear silent Lady of stone;
I know only that
somehow you have touched my heart.
For a thousand years you stood,
soaring sign of our City's greatness,
pride of its people, whoever they were.
Revolutions and wars passed you by,
enemies camped their tents around you.
Our Lady of Paris,
proud Queen of the Seine,
you are our living history.
Countless Kings came to you for blessing,
Emperors were crowned within you,
Presidents were buried from you.
To the world you were our City,
a mighty symbol of state.
But Notre Dame, for us, the people,
just your presence was a comfort.
So, know we will not desert you now!
And that is why four hundred brave fire fighters,
risk death to battle the inferno within your walls,
defy the furnace for a whole day and night,
pump millions of litres from the river
to save you from the engulfing flames.
Dear Notre Dame,
maybe the Seine on which you stand,
will with their strength yet save you.
For all night long, as the fire raged on and on,
your fate lay in the balance.
Huge silent crowds lined the banks.
The world watched in horror,
citizen and stranger joined together.
A common cry was heard:
Notre Dame,
dear lovely Lady by the Seine,
you will not perish by the flame!
It will not be true that you are vanquished!
Consumed by vast flames perhaps,
your great spire tumbled to the earth,
your vaults and buttresses destroyed,
your magical stained glass no more.
But dear Notre Dame,
Guardian of our City's soul,
do not for a moment doubt
that France will raise you from the ashes!
Harcourt Concannon
November 2021