The Shadow Is Lustral and the Dawn Iridescent

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

The shadow is lustral and the dawn iridescent.
From the branch, whence the bird
Flies off up there,
Fall drops of dew.

A lucid and frail purity
Adorns the morning so clear
That prisms seem to shine in the air.
One listens to a spring; one hears a sound of wings.

Oh! how beautiful your eyes are, in this first hour
When our silver ponds gleam in the light
And reflect the day that rises over there.
Your brow is radiant and your artery beats.

Life intense and good and its divine force
Enter so fully, like a beating of happiness,
Into your breast
That to contain its anguish and its fury,
Your hands suddenly take my hands
And press them as if with fear,
Against your heart.

Emile Verhaeren

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

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