When You Speak to Me of Glory, Poem by Victor Hugo

XXIV

When you speak to me of glory,
I smile bitterly.
That voice you want to believe,
I know full well it lies.

The glory is soon struck down;
Envy with its bloody torch
Does not spare this statue
Seated at the threshold of a tomb.

Prosperity flies away,
Power falls and flees.
A little love that consoles
Is worth more and makes less noise.

I want no other things
Than your smile and your voice,
Air, shadow and roses,
And rays of light in the woods!

I want, I who veil myself
In joy or in sorrow,
Only your gaze, my star!
Only your breath, O my flower!

Beneath your vermeil eyelid
Flooded by a celestial day,
A whole universe lies sleeping.
I seek there only love!

My thought, deep urn,
Vessel of sweet liqueur,
Which could fill the world,
Wants to fill only your heart!

Sing! ecstasy flows in me.
Smile at me! it is my only need.
What do I care for that crowd
That makes its murmur far away!

In the rapture into which you plunge me,
In vain, to break our bonds,
I see passing in my dreams
The luminous poets.

I want, whatever they advise me,
To prefer, until death,
To the fanfares that wake me
Your song that puts me back to sleep.

I want, even if my supreme name
Must blaze on the brow of the heavens,
That one half of myself
Remain here below to love you!

Let me love you in the shadow,
Sad, or at least serious.
Sadness is a dark place
Where love shines better.

Angel with eyes full of sparks,
Woman with days drowned in tears,
Take my soul on your wings,
Leave my heart at your feet!

Victor Hugo

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

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