To My Friend Edouard B.

Poem by Alfred De Musset Collection Early PoemsThemes ArrayPeriod 19th century

You struck your brow as you read Lamartine,
Edouard, you turned pale like a cursed gambler;
The shudder seized you, and the divine thunder,
Falling into your breast,
Terrified you yourself as it crossed your night.

Ah! strike your heart, that is where genius lies.
That is where pity, suffering and love are;
That is where the rock of life’s desert is,
From which the waves of harmony,
When Moses comes, will gush forth some day.

Perhaps unknown to you they already boil,
These lavas of the volcano, in the tears of your eyes.
You will soon leave with the swallows,
You who feel wings
When you see a bird pass in the skies.

Ah! you will then know what idleness is worth;
On the neighboring branches you will want to return.
Edouard, Edouard, your brow is still without sadness,
Your heart full of youth…
Ah! do not strike them, they would only have to open!

Alfred De Musset

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

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