Don Juan, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

To Antoine Cros

By a blue pond whose water ripples
Under the discreet wind of a summer night,
Among the jasmines, treading the damp grass,
Have you ever, dreamer, listened

To the voice of the maiden, moved and timid,
Who furtively, one evening, for you left
The friendly hearth — since then cold and empty,
Where, the parents dead, nothing more has remained?

Perfume of poison, cruel voluptuousness
Of having torn from the soil this frail lily
And of having hastened the work of the tombs…

O destruction, with what bitter charms
Are you then adorned? And, veiled in tears,
Why are clear eyes the more beautiful for it?

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-don-juan-charles-cros/