Fantasy

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

There is a tune for which I would give
All Rossini, all Mozart and all Weber,
A very old tune, languid and funereal,
That for me alone has secret charms.

Now, each time that I come to hear it,
My soul grows young again by two hundred years:
It is under Louis the Thirteenth; and I seem to see spreading
A green hillside, which the setting sun turns yellow,

Then a brick castle with corners of stone,
With stained-glass windows of reddish colors,
Girt with great parks, with a river
Bathing its feet, which flows among flowers;

Then a lady, at her tall window,
Blonde with dark eyes, in her old-fashioned clothes,
Whom in another existence perhaps,
I have already seen… and whom I remember!

Gérard de Nerval

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-fantasy-gerard-de-nerval/