1 month ago
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Text: Pierre-Jules-Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)
Come back, come back, my dearest love!
Like a flower far from the sun,
The flower of my life has drooped,
removed from the charm of your smile.
Between our hearts how long a distance!
What a wide space our kisses divide!
O bitter fate! O cruel absence!
O longing vain, unsatisfied!
To that far land where dwells my love,
Alas! if I could only go!
If wings were tied to my body,
As to my soul, then I would fly!
Far away, above the green hill tops,
The lofty mountains with peaks of blue,
The meadows gay, the babbling rivers,
With quick, sure wing I'd take my flight!
The body can't keep up with thought!
With me the spirit goes ahead,
Just like a poor dove that is wounded
And lights on the roof of his cot.