Dans un baiser l'onde au rivage
Dit ses douleurs;
Pour consoler la fleur sauvage,
L'aube a des pleurs;
Le vent du soir conte sa plainte
Aux vieux cyprès,
La tourterelle au térébinthe
Ses longs regrets.
Aux flots dormants, quand tout repose,
Hors la douleur,
La lune parle, et dit la cause
De sa pâleur.
Ton dôme blanc,
Sainte Sophie,
Parle au ciel bleu,
Et, tout rêveur, le ciel confie
Son rêve à Dieu!
Arbre ou tombeau, colombe ou rose,
Onde ou rocher,
Tout, ici-bas, a quelque chose
Pour s'épancher...
Moi, je suis seule, et rien au monde
Ne me répond,
Rien que ta voix morne et profonde,
Sombre Hellespont!
In a kiss, upon the shore, the wave
tells of its suffering;
to console the wild flower,
the dawn has tears;
the evening wind says its lament
to the old cypresses,
the dove, to the terebinth,
its long regrets.
To the sleeping waves, when everything is resting,
beyond pain,
the moon speaks, and says the cause
of its pallor.
Your white dome,
Saint Sophia,
speaks to the blue sky,
and, quite dreamily, the sky confides
its dream to God!
Tree or tomb, dove or rose,
wave or rock,
all, here below, has something
to which to pour its heart out...
Me, I am alone, and nothing in the world
answers me,
nothing but your mournful and deep voice,
sombre Hellespont!
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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