Choking
and pale, when
the clock strikes,
I remember
the days of old
and I weep;

And I go my way,
like a dead leaf
borne listlessly
hither and thither
on an
evil wind.

English: James Day © 1982

The shimmering sky, like some vast blue tent,
will play voluptuously in long folds
over our two happy foreheads,
pale with happiness and expectation;

And when evening falls, the air will play softly
among your veils,
and the peaceful stars will smile down
benevolently on the loving pair.

English: James Day © 1982

The castle all white
flanked by
the sun now set
encircled by fields:
Oh! that our love
were hidden there!

English: James Day © 1982

Let our souls, our hearts,
and our ecstatic senses
blend among the blurred shapes
of the languid pines and arbutus.

Half close your eyes.
Fold your arms across your breast
and banish forever all conscious thought
from your slumbering heart.

Let us lull ourselves
in the gentle murmur that caresses
the rippling russet grass
at your feet.

And, in the evening,
the song of the nightingale,
the voice of our despair,
will drift solemnly down from the black oaks.

English: James Day © 1982

O my beloved.

The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
There the wind is weeping …

Let us dream, it is the hour.

A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the sky
The moon illuminates …

Exquisite hour.

English: Richard Stokes © 2015

O well-beloved.

The lagoon,
a deep mirror,
reflects the silhouette
of the black willow
where the wind moans …

Let us dream! It is the time for it.

A vast and gentle
calm
seems to be descending
from the heavens,
iridescent with stars …

It is the exquisite hour.

English: James Day © 1982

O my beloved.

The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind is weeping.

Let us dream, it is the hour.

A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the firmament
Iridescent with stars …

Exquisite hour.

English: Richard Stokes

The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
There the wind is weeping …

Let us dream, it is the hour.

A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the sky
The moon illuminates …

Exquisite hour.

O my beloved.

The pool reflects,
Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind is weeping…

Let us dream, it is the hour.

A vast and tender
Consolation
Seems to fall
From the sky
The moon illumines…

Exquisite hour.

How much, o traveller, did the pale landscape
reflect your pale soul,
and how did your hopes weep sorrowfully,
drowned in those lofty leaves!

English: James Day © 1982

The days of alarms are finished
when I was sad and in tears.

I have read bitter words
and banished gloomy illusions.

My eyes, exiled from her sight
by a mournful duty,

my ear, greedy to hear
the golden tones of her gentle voice.

all my being and all my love
acclaim the happy day

on which my only dream and only thought
will be my bride’s return!

English: James Day © 1982