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Enough sleeping, my beauty!
Your dapple-gray mare
Neighs beneath your balconies.
See your alert huntsmen,
And on their green sleeves
The black feet of the falcons.
See squires and pages,
In gallant retinues,
Without rochet or doublet,
Heads hooded,
Leading the palfreys,
Crossbow in hand.
See bounding in the grass
The superb greyhounds,
The stocky dogs barking.
To the hunt, and happy hunting!
Come, my love,
Foot in the stirrup!
And first, beneath the moire,
With this ivory arm
Enclose this beautiful breast,
Whose divine form,
So that the eye may guess it,
Remains in the folds of the cushion.
Oh! on your leaning brow,
I love to see your white hand
Combing your black hair;
Beautiful hair that we gather
In the mornings, and together
We undo in the evenings!
Come, my intrepid one,
Your swift mare
Strikes the ground with her hoof,
And your jester balances,
Like a soldier his lance,
His joyful parasol!
Put your blonde sash
On your round shoulder,
On your golden bodice,
And I will, my charming one,
Carry you off in your cloak,
Like a sleeping child!
Alfred De Musset
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-the-rising-alfred-de-musset/