Claire fontaine, Poem by Charles-Nérée Beauchemin

Claire fontaine where a nightingale
Sings, a nightingale never weary,
Are you not the charming symbol
Of a dear past?

Source of fresh melody,
That makes bloom, beneath our frosts,
This white rosebush of Normandy,
That does not die!

To this white rosebud,
Winter was never fatal,
Nor to the oak that leans
Over your crystal.

Oh! it is an immortal sorrow
That pours out, in tears of love,
In the naive refrain
Of the old day.

It is a reflection of the skies of France,
O fountain, that you show,
In the limpid transparency
Of your mirror.

Charles-Nérée Beauchemin

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-claire-fontaine-charles-neree-beauchemin/