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When alone with you, pensive and subdued,
My two hands in mine, seated by your side,
I abandon my soul to soft delights
And let the hours I forget slip by;
When deep in the forests I lead you with me,
When your sweet sighs alone charm my ear,
Or, repeating to you the vows of the day before,
I swear in turn to adore only you;
When at last, happier, your charming brow rests
On my trembling knee that serves as its support,
And my tender gazes hang upon yours
Like the eager bee on the leaves of the rose;
Often then, often, in the depths of my heart
A vague terror pierces like a dart;
You see me shudder; I pale, I shiver,
And disturbed suddenly in the bosom of happiness,
I feel tears flow that my soul wonders at.
You suddenly press me in your caressing arms,
You question me, you take alarm,
And I see from your eyes escape some tears
That come to mingle with the tears I shed.
“” What secret sorrow has stricken your soul?
You say to me: dear love, pour out your pain;
I will soothe your sorrow by listening to your complaint,
And my heart will pour balm into your heart. “”
Question me no more, half of myself!
Enlaced in your arms, when you say to me: I love you;
When my intoxicated eyes rise toward you,
No mortal under the heavens is happier than I?
But even in the bosom of fortunate hours
I know not what voice I hear resounding
Pursues me, and comes to warn me
That happiness flees on the wing of the years,
And that the torch of our loves must die!
With a terrified flight, into the dark future
My soul plunges with dread,
And I say to myself: It is but a dream
That happiness which must end.
Alphonse de Lamartine
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-to-el-alphonse-de-lamartine/