The song of memories

No… the dreams haven’t vanished, and I yield,
and abandon myself to their carresses:
I close my eyes pensively and see you again
as in a cloud of rays of gold!

You smile at me lovingly, and I ask
for my long suffering, gentle relief!
In your sweet words, I can believe again
in this singing of our hopes in chorus.

Here… I extend my hands! here, in my rapt thoughts,
all of me exults, and a living fire
of sighing, or desire, runs through my veins!

But… you fade into the air, like a misty
cloud vanishing little by little,
into the distant horizon... undefinable!…

The brook sang its gay song,
the branches sang for the April feast.
O spring, o shining season,
o beautiful and sweet time [of year]!

Bright moths lit the sky above,
wandering across the meadows, drinking from every flower.
O spring, o smiling days,
O beautiful time of love!

Every path was carressed by breezes;
winding through hedges as if enamoured.
Oh… the reliable peace of the forest!
Oh… its gentle mystery!

Upon my pallid face,
upon my dark hair,
snow-white and perfumed,
in a divine cloud,
rained down the petals of the hawthorn!

The brook sang its gay song,
from the boughs sang melodious voces.
O spring, O fleeting season,
O quickly vanishing days!

A:
 Broom flower,
 I am the student, you are the master.
 Gazing into your face, I learn everything:
 you are the master, I the student!

B:
 Like that, went the sweet serenade,
 like that, went the sad serenade...
 So, from my face,
 did you learn oblivion?

A:
 Violet flower,
 unhappiest of all is a lonely soul:
 on its path neither love nor hope shines.
 Do you want, O beauty, to walk together?

B:
 Like that, went the sweet serenade,
 like that, went the sad serenade...
 
A:
 Do you want, O beauty, to walk together?

B:
 And now… where are you?
 Look, I’m alone!
 and I weep, I weep, I weep!

Over the sea, the little boat,
like a black seashell,
sped off, lightly and streamlined,
in the tranquil evening.
It seems to be propelled
by wings of desire,
and my soul was overwhelmed
by an infinite oblivion.
Above our heads soared the gulls
and the air was awoken by gentle breezes;
and murmuring languorous songs,
among the waves, were fantastic sirens.
More alive, in every star,
there was a mysterious spark:
as the little boat sped off,
over the sea, far, far away...

A faint murmuring reaches me: mute,
I stop to listen, and my trembling heart
remembers a sweet hope.
Alas, I think I see him before me!
But the murmurs brought by the wind
is the whispering of branches, and not of love!
The illusion has faded away in a moment:
I return to weeping again!

Brushing my head, is a gentle caress,
startling me and disturbing my senses:
the sweet warmth of his hand
seems to bring back the feeling of the good old days.
But the gentle breeze that touched my hair
is the carress of the breeze, and not of love!
The illusion has faded away in a moment:
I return to weeping again!

To the thick woods, to the placid shade,
where we sang our hymn of love,
my soul always returns,
sad, tormented, in its distress!
Alas… maybe more faithfully, the fronds
will preserve the echo of my sighs:
or even, the branches, perhaps,
will conceal heights of my ravings!

O sweet night! O pale, mysterious stars,
O fragrances of the air! O spell cast by the roses!
It was you who troubled my soul, through your mysterious influence,
with new desires in a strange turmoil!
You, in the ecstatic silences of the gentle moonrise,
you, who made me weep, you, who made me love!

Eyes, deep and mystical, which first subdued me,
who cast the spell of your sad gaze?
Still in my heart, tremble your ardent flames;
I can still hear you, oh languorous sighs, oh fervent tones!
Ah! it was you, in the spell of the white moonrise,
you, who made me weep, you, who made me love.

No… the dreams haven’t vanished, and I yield,
and abandon myself to their sadness:
I close my eyes pensively and see you again
as in a cloud of rays of gold!

But… you fade into the air, 
vanishing… 
into the distant horizon… undefinable!…