A celle qui est voilée (To the one who is veiled)
You speak to me from the depths of a dream
Like a soul speaks to the living.
Like the foam from the shore,
Your dress flutters in the winds.
I am the algae of the countless waves,
The captive of victorious destiny;
I am the one that all the shadow
Covers without extinguishing his heart.
My mind looks like this island,
And my fate to this ocean;
And I am the quiet dweller
I am the outlaw who veils himself,
Who dreams and sings, far from the noise,
With the owl and the star,
The dark song of the night.
Are you not, like myself,
Torch in this harsh and vile world,
Soul, that is to say problem,
And woman, that is to say exile?
Come out of the cloud, charming shadow.
O ghost, let yourself be seen!
Be a beacon in my turmoil,
Be a look in my black sky!
Look for me among the seagulls!
And, in my silent depths,
The whiteness of the pensive angel!
Be the wing that passes and mixes
To the great angry waves.
Oh, come on! you must be very beautiful,
For your distant song is very sweet;
Maybe it's a law from heaven
May my dark destiny bring forth
In this dark world where I wander,
You tell me from afar that you love me,
And that, at night, on the horizon,
You come to see the pale shores
The white specter of my house.
There, meditating under the great dome,
Near the restlessly agitated flow,
Surprise to find the atom
Resembling the immensity,
You compare, without knowing me,
The wave to man, the shadow to the banished,
My lamp shining on my window
To the starry body of infinity!
Sometimes, like at the bottom of a grave,
I feel you on my fatal forehead,
Mouth of the Unknown from which falls
The pure kiss of the Ideal.
With your breath, towards God pushed,
I feel within me, sweet fear,
Leaves of the inner tree.
But you don't want anyone to see you;
You come and you flee in turn;
You don't want to call yourself joy,
Having said: My name is love.
Oh ! take one more step! Come, come in,
Come see my soul in its lair,
The lion spirit, the child heart;
Come see the desert where I live
Alone under my scary ceiling;
Be the angel in the cenobite's house,
Change into pearls in my rubble
Come and pose on my dark works
Your finger from which a light comes out!
From the edge of the sinister ravines
I glimpse divine things... -
Come see the dreamer who bursts into flames
And, day by day, in his soul
More death and less night!
Come ! come into my haggard mist,
Where faith is born, where the spirit comes from,
The obscure forms of fate.
Everything is lit up with funereal lights;
God, for the saddened thinker,
Always opens in the darkness
Before being on this earth,
I feel that I once hovered;
I was the solitary archangel,
And my misfortune is to have been born.
On my soul, which was a dove,
Come, you who have the seal of heaven.
Sometimes a feather falls
Yes, my irreparable misfortune,
It is to hang on the two elements,
It is to have in me, wretch,
Of the mire and the firmaments!
Alas! alas! it is to be a man;
It's to think that I was beautiful,
To not know what my name is,
To be a sky and to be a tomb!
It's being a convict who wanders
His vile toil under the blue sky;
It's to wear the human hood
Where I had your wings, my God!
It is to be full, I, son of the day,
From the earth of the cemetery,
izzy806
jbbartram-illu
blakekathryn
annaxmalina
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
