Dreams, Poem by Auguste Angellier

Poem by Auguste Angellier Collection The Path of SeasonsPeriod 20th century

I have sometimes dreamed that your eyes
Were looking at me with sadness,
That your large, serious blue eyes
Were looking at me with tenderness;

I have dreamed that you were listening
To these words on which the voice hesitates,
And which stop, frightened
Of the confession that quivers beneath them;

That into my hands your slender hands
Fell like two mown flowers,
And that our steps, along the paths,
Left their traces close together.

But I have not dared to dream,
In drunkenness or in fever,
That such happiness could come to me
As my mouth brushing your lips.

I have sometimes dreamed that your eyes
Were looking at me with tenderness,
That your large, serious blue eyes
Were looking at me with sadness.

Auguste Angellier

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