On Her Album

Poem by Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly Collection PoussièresPeriod 19th century

To Armance.

So you wish that on the white page,
Fruits of a withered tree, some verses be written?
Oh! why does your heart not have as its image
These candid leaves open to my regrets!
I would try perhaps to trace there with delight
The sweet word that, mocking, you say each day;
But your heart, alas! is so full of whims
That there is no room in it for love!

Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly

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-on-her-album-jules-barbey-d-aurevilly/