Irish Melody

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

(Imitated from Thomas Moore)

The morning sun was beginning its course,
I saw near the shore a light boat
Gently rocking on the silvered waves.
I returned when night was descending on the shore:
The little vessel was there, but the fleeting water
No longer bathed its sides, stopped in the sand.

And such is our fate! in the morning of life,
By dreams of hope our soul pursued
Balances for a moment on the waves of happiness;
But, as soon as evening spreads its dark veil,
The water that carried us withdraws, and in the shadow
Soon we remain alone, prey to sorrow.

At the decline of our days they say our head
Must find rest under a sky without storm;
But what does the calm of night matter to my wishes!
Give me back the morning, its freshness and charms;
For I still prefer its mists and its tears
To the sweetest glimmers of the fleeing sun.

Oh! who has not desired to see suddenly reborn
That moment whose charm awakened in his being
Both unknown senses and new transports!
Where his soul, like the perfumed bark,
That disperses in burning its fragrant vapor,
In the fires of love exhaled its treasures!

Gérard de Nerval

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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