J'ai perdu la forêt, la plaine,
Et les frais Avrils d'autrefois
Donne tes lèvres, leur haleine,
Ce sera le souffle des bois.
J'ai perdu 1'océan morose;
Son deuil, ses vagues, ses échos;
Dis-moi n'importe quelle chose,
Ce sera la rumeur des flots.
Lourd d'une tristesse royale,
Mon front songe aux soleils enfuis;
Oh! cache-moi dans ton sein pâle!
Ce sera le calme des nuits!
I have lost the forest, the plain,
and the fresh Aprils of former times.
Give me your lips, their breath,
it will be the breeze of the woods.
I have lost the gloomy ocean,
Its mourning, its waves, its echoes;
tell me whatever you will,
it will be the crash of the waves.
Heavy with a regal sadness,
My brow dreams of the fugitive sun rays;
oh, hide me in your pale bosom!
It will be the calm of the night!
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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