Eponymous Nelligan – Memories Through the Eyes of my City

In the quiet of my mind, I hear

The echoes of a distant past,

A poet’s voice, both bright and clear,

Whose words still ring, though he’s long passed.

Emile Nelligan, the name we know,

A soul who burned with passion’s flame,

Whose verses flowed like falling snow,

Each one a work of art, his claim to fame.

In his youth, he soared on wings of verse,

His pen a sword, his heart on fire,

His words a gift, a cosmic curse,

A flame that burned with endless desire.

But fame is fickle, and time is cruel,

And soon his star began to fade,

The price of genius, a heavy jewel,

A burden he could no longer evade.

Yet still his poems live on today,

A legacy of beauty and pain,

A testament to a fleeting ray,

A poet’s voice, forever in refrain.