High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress
So that, between the wind and the terrain,
At times a shining stocking would be seen,
And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness.
With long sobs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville.
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénêtre mon coeur ?
Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Your soul is like a painter's landscape where
charming masks in shepherd mummeries
are playing lutes and dancing with an air
of being sad in their fantastic guise.
Utter low wails
Till on my soul
See, blossoms, branches, fruit, leaves I have brought,
And then my heart that for you only sighs;
You were not over-patient with me, dear;
This want of patience one must rightly rate:
You are so young! Youth ever was severe
Tears fall in my heart
Rain falls on the town;
what is this numb hurt
that enters my heart?...