Clement Clarke Moore

C'était la nuit de Noël, et dans la grande maison, on n'entendait pas un bruit, pas même la plus petite souris. Les chaussettes avaient été soigneusement accrochées au manteau de la cheminée, dans l'espoir que le Père Noël ne tarderait pas à passer. Les enfants se pelotonnaient dans leur lit douillet, rêvant déjà farandoles de bonbons et dragées. Ma femme ajustait sa charlotte, et moi mon bonnet. Nous étions prêts pour une longue nuit d'hiver.
Soudain monta du jardin un tel chahut que je sautai à bas de mon lit pour voir ce qu'il était advenu.

('Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' 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 danc'd in their heads,
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains 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.)

Ses yeux, comme ils brillaient !
Ses fossettes si joyeuses !
Ses joues fraîches comme des roses !
Son nez rouge cerise !
Sa drôle de bouche
dessinait un sourire jusqu'à ses oreilles,
et sa barbe était blanche comme la neige.

Ce conte de Noël écrit en 1822 par un pasteur new-yorkais du nom de Clement Clarke Moore est un grand classique de la tradition de Noël anglo-saxonne. Clement Clarke Moore est l’auteur du légendaire poème « Une visite de Saint Nicolas », qui devint célèbre plus tard sous le titre de « La nuit avant Noël ». Le poème, d’abord publié de façon anonyme avant d’être attribué à Moore, a largement contribué à forger la légende du Père Noël telle que nous la connaissons aujourd’hui.

Il est si joufflu, ce vieux lutin joyeux,
qu'à le voir, j'ai envie de rire.
D'un clin d'œil et d'un signe de tête,
il m'indique que je n'ai rien à craindre.
Et sans un mot, il se met au travail,
et remplit tous les bas. Soudain, il se retourne,
Pose un doigt sur la bouche,
Me fait un petit signe, et remonte dans la cheminée.
Puis il saute dans son traîneau, siffle son attelage,
et tous s'envolent à la vitesse de l'éclair.

'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 a 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 head, 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 on 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 stocking; 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

‘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;

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.

Plus rapides que des aigles, les rennes semblaient voler. Lui, il les appelait, il sifflait, il criait : « Allez, Fougueux ! Allez, Danseur, Fringant, et puis Renarde ! En avant, Comète ! Cupidon, en avant ! Tonnerre ! Eclair ! Allons ! Allons ! Montez sur la terrasse ! Grimpez en haut du mur ! Dépêchons ! Dépêchons ! Allons, plus vite ! Plus vite ! »

C’était la nuit avant Noël, dans la maison tout était calme, pas un cri, pas un bruit, pas même une souris…
Les chaussettes, bien sages, pendues à la cheminée, attendaient le Père Noël. Allait-il arriver ?
Les enfants, blottis dans leurs lits, bien au chaud, rêvaient de friandises, de bonbons et de gâteaux.
Maman sous son fichu et moi sous mon bonnet étions prêts à dormir toute une longue nuit d’hiver.

C'est alors que j'ai vu arriver un traîneau tiré par huit rennes et conduit par un vieil homme tout habillé de rouge : le père Noël !