O l'heure douce! O l'exquise seconde
Où nous restâmes seuls dans le salon frileux!
Le pâle éclat du jour rendait tes yeux plus bleus
Et de t'aimer déjà je te trouvais plus blonde.
A travers le vitrail fané nous regardions les flocons
Tournoyer le long des avenues;
Sur la fontaine on aurait dit des papillons,
On aurait dit des lys dans les branches chenues...
Sans le vouloir mes doigts effleurèrent tes doigts,
Et ma bouche effleura ta bouche; et, sortilège!
Ton visage et tes main devinrent blancs et froids
Comme la neige!
O sweet hour! O exquisite moment
when we lingered alone in the frosty lounge.
The pale break of day rendered your eyes even bluer
and for already loving you I found you even fairer.
Through the worn stained glass we watched the snowflakes
whirling along the avenues;
upon the fountain one would have said butterflies,
one would have said lilies in the bare branches...
Inadvertently, my fingers brushed against your fingers,
and my lips brushed against your lips; and, sorcery!
Your face and your hands became as white and as cold
as the snow!
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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