With My Old Hands..., Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

With my old hands drawn close to your brow
I part your hair and I kiss, this evening,
During your brief sleep by the black hearth,
The fervor of your eyes, hidden beneath your long lashes.

Oh! the good tenderness in this end of day!
My eyes follow the years of which existence is made
And suddenly your life appears so perfect in them
That a moving respect softens my love.

And as in the time when you were my betrothed
The ardor still comes to me to fall to my knees
And to touch the place where your sweet heart beats
With fingers as chaste as my thoughts.

Emile Verhaeren

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-with-my-old-hands-emile-verhaeren/