To M. A. T., Poem by Alfred De Musset

Poem by Alfred De Musset Collection New PoemsPeriod 19th century

Sonnet.

So, my dear friend, you are really going to leave!
Farewell; let fools blame your folly.
Whatever the road, whatever the future,
The only guide in this world is the hand of a friend.

Yet you leave me quite alone, I who am weary.
But what does it matter? The hope of seeing you return
Will give me, despite life’s disgusts,
That childlike courage that consists in growing old.

Only sometimes, near your mistress,
Remember a heart that proved its nobility
Better than the golden sparrowhawk with which my helmet is armed;

That loved you at once and freely,
In the strength and flower of beautiful youth,
And that now sleeps forever closed.

Alfred De Musset

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

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