Smiles, flowers, kisses, and essences
perfume the wind of my nights
after such insipid boredom,
after such dreary absences!
Light up my fantasy,
strew my ideal path and
pour me your ambrosia, lingering glances,
lilies, lips, and sandalwood!
For I know nothing of decrepit love
and eyes unsealed,
since the gold still blazes
in silky tufts on your white neck.
And yet, my proud friend,
it was a long time ago, wasn’t it?
that, weary of loving, you went to sleep
in my arms one morning.
It is not carnal things
that make your charm unequaled,
that keep those same
sunbeams in your pupils.
For carnal things die or wither
in fresh air.
But your beauties always remain
within their spiritual halo.
It is no longer the time for jealous tenderness
nor for false oaths.
Tell me nothing of my mistresses;
I do not count your lovers.
For you, wandering comet,
often loitering on your path,
letting your fair hair float
in the superhuman ether,
What do a few pale stars matter
in my reason’s troubled sky,
when at long intervals you come
to close my horizon round?
I do not want to know what poles
your mad orbit left behind it;
give me your breasts and shoulders;
let me kiss them, and that is enough.