To My Sleeping Wife, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Collar of ClawsPeriod 19th century

You sleep believing that my verses
Will clutter the whole universe
With disasters and fires;
Yet they are so rare,
My songs at sunset
And my distant melodies.

But if sometimes I disturb
The serenity of the cold skies,
If sounds of steel or copper
Or gold vibrate in my songs,
Forgive these lofty ways,
It is that I hasten to live.

And then you will always love me.
Eternal are the loves
Whose refuge is my memory;
Our children will be proud lads
Who will repair the damage
That in your life their father made.

They sleep without dreaming of anything,
In the airy cloud
Of hair on their fine heads;
And you, near them, you sleep too,
Having forgotten the worry
Of all work, of all debts.

I keep watch and I make these verses
That will leave the whole universe
Without disaster and without fire;
And tomorrow, at the rising sun,
You will smile listening
To this tranquil melody.

Charles Cros

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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