Gypsy

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Sandalwood CasketPeriod 19th century

In the wild, aimless rush of my life,
Scorning the paths already worn, too long,
I have crossed harsh mountains, treacherous valleys.
My trail will not be followed there for a long time.

On the height of summits that no cautious man envies,
Slender steeples, lakes, cool mirrors, blond fields
Speak to me of lands left too soon. Come,
Quick! quick! onward. The unknown beckons me there.

Before me, fog covers the black woods.
The music heard on limpid evenings
Resounds in my head to the rhythm of the pace.

In the morning, I wake to the bells of departure,
Onward! A new wind bathes my hair,
And I go, proud that no one awaits me anywhere.

Charles Cros

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