Sonnet (I Will Not Write You Verses), Poem by Charles Cros

Sonnet

I will not write you verses,
Madam, blonde among the blondes,
You would shrink the universe too much,
You would be queen over the worlds.

Your sapphire eyes, wide open,
Are as troubling as the waves
Of rivers, lakes, and seas,
And they fill me with deep rages.

Yet I am disarmed
By the mouth, rose of May,
That speaks so well without a word,

And that says the matchless word,
Deliciously mad flower
Blooming in Paris, in the sun.

Charles Cros

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

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