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Hahn - L'énamourée

L'énamourée

Hahn

Ils se disent, ma colombe,
Que tu rêves, morte encore,
Sous la pierre d'une tombe:
Mais pour l'âme qui t'adore,
Tu t'éveilles, ranimée,
O pensive bien-aimée!

Par les blanches nuits d'étoiles,
Dans la brise qui murmure,
Je caresse tes longs voiles,
Ta mourante chevelure,
Et les ailes demi-closes
Qui voltigent sur les roses!

O délices! je respire
Tes divines tresses blondes!
Ta voix pure, cette lyre,
Suit la vague sur les ondes,
Et, suave, les effleure,
Comme un cygne qui se pleure!

Théodore de Banville

ENGLISH TEXT

© translated by Christopher Goldsack

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