Myrtho, Poem by Gérard De Nerval

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

I think of you, Myrtho, divine enchantress,
On proud Posilipo, brilliant with a thousand fires,
On your brow flooded with the lights of the Orient,
On the black grapes mingled with the gold of your braid.

It was in your cup too that I had drunk intoxication,
And in the furtive flash of your smiling eye,
When at the feet of Iacchus I was seen praying,
For the Muse has made me one of the sons of Greece.

I know why down there the volcano has reopened…
Because yesterday you had touched it with an agile foot,
And suddenly the horizon was covered with ashes.

Since a Norman duke broke your clay gods,
Always, beneath the branches of Virgil’s laurel,
The pale hydrangea unites with the green myrtle!

Gérard de Nerval

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

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