There are gentle farewells at the threshold of doors
Lips upon lips for an hour or for a day;
The wind brings the sound of steps
Which move away from the residence,
The wind brings back the sound of footsteps of the sweet return;
Here they are, climbing the steps
Of the stairway of white stone;
Here they approach.
You walk along the corridor or brush
The elbow of your sleeve against the limestone wall
Or your shoulder;
And you stop, I sense you
Behind the closed door;
Your heart beats quickly and you breathe
And I hear you
And I open the swift door quickly to your smile,
Oh beloved!

There are long farewells on the shore of seas
Amid heavy evenings where one suffocates;
The lighthouses already turn in the dusk;
The lights are bright. It is insufferable.
The wave comes, breaks on the shore, foams and recedes
And beats against the hull of wood and iron.
And in the shadows, hands are slow
To leave each other and clasp together again.
The red reflection of the lanterns
Makes an omen of blood on the uncertain faces
Which say "farewell" on the banks of the seas
Like at a crossroads
Like at the bend of roads which flee
In sunshine or through the rain
Like at the corner of walls where one leans,
Intoxicated from sadness and love;
In gazing at one's hands, separated for a long time
Or forever.

There are still other farewells
Which one exchanges in a low voice
Or, face to face, anxiously,
Life and Death, you kiss each other
Standing in the shadow mouth to mouth
As if to better secure
For all time and eternity
Lip upon lip and breath upon breath
Your two-fold friendship.

So that the night may be sweet, the roses of the perfumed garden
Must perfume gently - with their bloomed odors,
Up to the house through the open window, -
The shadow where we keep each other quiet.

So that the night may be beautiful, it shall need the silence
Of the dark country and of the starry sky,
And that each one of us hear what it thinks,
Repeated by one voice which will not have spoken.

So that the night may be beautiful and sweet and may be divine,
The silence and the flowers shall not suffice.
Neither the nocturnal garden and the neighboring roses,
Nor the sleeping earth, without murmurs and without steps;

Because you alone, beautiful Love, if you are
Favorable toward our hearts which unite the exquisite pleasure,
Can add a secret to these perfect hours,
A solemn, profound, and supreme beauty.

The setting sun is so beautiful among
The golden trees which it stains with blood
That the day, half dying,
Delays its solemn and slow death.

Above the roses twilight
is so pure, so calm, and so soft
That they are not all closed
And that I gather one for you.

The leaves whisper so low,
One by one or all together
From tree to tree, so that one does not know
If you are laughing or if the wood is trembling.

The river flows so gently
Between the blue reeds of the meadows,
So gently, so gently, so gently,
That one does not know if you are crying.

The night of shadow, of silk, and of gold
Has come from the depths of the silence,
And the autumn is still so warm
That you will be able to fall asleep naked.

I could have proclaimed my Love
Right out loud
In the great day
Ardent and hot
Of the beautiful red-headed summer that exalts it and intoxicates it
And holds it up with a laugh
Echoing everywhere!

I could have said:
My love is happy, see
Its purple coat that falls
All the way to its feet!
Its hands are full
Of roses which bloom and perfume the air;
The sky is clear
Over its warm marble house
And white and veined like flesh
Sweet to the lips...

But no,
I dressed it in homespun and wool;
Its coat drags
Over its heels;
It passes, barely smiling,
And when it sings, it's so quiet
That no one turns
To gather its blooming song
In the evening, which [the song] perfumes;
It has neither a garden nor a home,
And it pretends to be poor
Better to hide that it is loved.