I am a sylph, a shade, a nothing, a dream,
Denizen of the air, mysterious spirit, 
Light scent that the breeze carries away, 
Living circle that joins mankind and the gods. 

The diaphanous rays of my pure body 
flutter, mixed with the mist of the evening; 
But I hide from the gazes of the profane, 
and a soul can only see me when dreaming.

Skimming over the shining surface of the lake 
in my subtle flight I brush the reeds; 
And, swinging on my brilliant wing, 
I love to see myself in the crystal of the waters.

In your gardens I sometimes I flutter about; 
and, becoming intoxicated with the smooth scents, 
Without my foot making their stems bend, 
I hover over the chalice of the flowers.

Into your foyers I enter confidently, 
and, recreating his half-shut eyes, 
I love to pour dreams of innocence 
onto the pure brow of a sleeping child.

When night throws her veil over you
I glide across the skies like a long net of gold, 
And mortals say, “It is a star 
that presages the death of a friend.”