To George Sand II

Poem by Alfred De Musset Period 19th century

Like the matin bell of the Angelus, which
Makes stray dogs howl in the crossroads,
So your chaste and pure lute, dipped in lustral water,
O George, has made hideous barkings rise,

But when the winds whistled over your muse with its pale brow,
You could not tie back your long flowing hair;
You knew that Phoebe, the virginal Star
That lifts the seas, makes serpents slaver.

You did not answer, not even with a smile,
Those who exhausted themselves in unknown torments,
To put a little mud around your bare feet.

Like Desdemona, bending over your lyre,
When the storm had passed you did not listen,
And your great dreamy eyes never suspected it.

Alfred De Musset

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-george-sand-ii-alfred-de-musset/