As soon as I had the free use of my heart,
I placed it in hands that opened to take it;
They were gentle hands, so beautiful in their whiteness,
Whose touch was delicious and tender.
Happy and quivering to feel them upon it,
My heart, like a bird, remained in their caress;
The winds were perfumed, the bright sun shone
Only through their nest-like warmth and softness.
But, one day, these two hands with fine fingers ringed in gold,
Became suddenly glacial and rigid,
And, still pressing it in a final effort,
Clenched upon it in cold embraces.
Auguste Angellier
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-a-heart-auguste-angellier/
