The Specters

Poem by Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly Collection PoussièresPeriod 19th century

To M. B.

You know them well, these lovers of the clearings,
These specters, returning, chilled from the tomb,
Under the bluish moon and its pale lights…
They dance in the cemeteries,
But in my heart, they are seated.

They are there, all, seated with melancholy,
In the stillness of the dead, beneath their tombs:
And pale and grief-stricken, believing they are forgotten,
They do not suspect that they are Life for us,
More powerful than she and far more beautiful!

O specters of finished loves, — specters of women,
Who make our regrets worse than remorse…
You do not return only at night into our souls…
But the clearest days you blacken their flames
And, dead, you make of us the dead!

And you, you who believe me living, — living still,
For I become so again beneath your eyes so gentle, —
Fear the mad feelings of hearts at their dawn,
And do not learn that there is in this heart that adores you
A wall of dead women between us!

Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly

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