On a Fan, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

Sonnet

I write these lines here so that, in the evening, dreaming
Of all the blue dreams that young ladies dream,
You may let upon your eyes, placid silver lakes,
My thought go wheeling and there wet its wings.

Perhaps, seated near you, puffing himself up,
Some handsome cavalier tells you such things
That, once departing from your indifference,
You would let your immortal coldness weaken.

But on your fan, here by chance
Uncertain and distracted your gaze falls;
And you read my verses whose writing fades,

Oh! do not listen to him who would bend
Your cold divinity to the cares of the hearth
And make of Diana an obscure bourgeoise!

Charles Cros

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-a-fan-charles-cros/