A Une Femme [English]
To you these lines for the consoling grace Of your great eyes wherein a soft dream shines, For your pure soul, all-kind!—to you these lines From the black deeps of mine unmatched distress. ’Tis that the hideous dream that doth oppress My soul, alas! its sad prey ne’er resigns, But like a pack of wolves down mad inclines Goes gathering heat upon my reddened trace! I suffer, oh, I suffer cruelly! So that the first man’s cry at Eden lost Was but an eclogue surely to my cry! And that the sorrows, Dear, that may have crossed Your life, are but as swallows light that fly —Dear!—in a golden warm September sky.
Translated by Gertrude Hall