Lilacs, Poem by Charles Cros

Poem by Charles Cros Collection The Collar of ClawsPeriod 19th century

My mistress makes scenes at me.
Flowered paradise of lilacs
I come to breathe your wholesome scents.

The dying say: Alas!
Old men say obscene words
To cover the sound of their passing bells.

In the wood of pines and oaks
The shells throw their bursts.
Victory? Defeat? Moths.
Amethyst rain the lilacs,
Free of vain ambitions,
Offer their feasts to the poorest.

The sea, the mountains, the plains,
All is forgotten. I am weary,
Weary of foolishness and hatreds.

But my heart is reborn to the lilacs.

Charles Cros

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