O blanche Tyndaris, les Dieux me sont amis:
Ils aiment les Muses Latines;
Et l'aneth, et le myrte et le thym des collines
Croissent aux prés qu'ils m'ont soumis.
Viens! mes ramiers chéris aux voluptés plaintives,
Ici se plaisent à gémir;
Et sous l'épais feuillage il est doux de dormir
Au bruit des sources fugitives.
Lecomte de Lisle
O white Tyndaris, the Gods are my friends:
they are fond of the Latin Muses;
and the dill, and the myrtle and the thyme of the hills
flourish in the meadows that they have yielded to me.
Come! My cherished ring-doves with their plaintive charms,
here are happy to moan;
and under the thick leafage it is gentle to sleep
to the sound of the flowing springs.
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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