As in the naive ages, I gave you my heart, Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

As in the naive ages, I gave you my heart,
Like a full flower,
That opens pure and beautiful in the hours of dew;
Between its wet folds my mouth has settled.

The flower, I picked it with fingers of flame,
Told it nothing: for all words are hazardous
It is through the eyes that a soul listens to a soul.

The flower that is my heart and my confession,
Quite simply, to your lips confides
That it is loyal and clear and good, and that one trusts
In virgin love, as a child trusts in God.

Let us leave the mind to flourish on the hills
In capricious paths of vanity,
And let us simply welcome sincerity
That holds our two true hearts in its crystalline hands
And nothing is beautiful like a confession of souls
To one another, in the evening, when the flame
Of the incomparable diamonds
Burns like so many eyes
Silent
The silence of the firmaments.

Emile Verhaeren

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

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