So, always driven towards new shores,
Swept away without return into the eternal night,
Will we never be able on the ocean of the ages
To drop anchor for a single day?

O lake! the year has barely completed its course,
And by the beloved waves that she should have seen again,
See! I come alone to sit on this stone 
Where you saw her sit!

You roared just so beneath these deep rocks,
Just so you broke against their ragged flanks,
Just so the wind threw the spray of your waves 
Over her beloved feet.

One evening, do you remember? we were sailing in silence;
Nothing could be heard on the waves and under the skies,
But, far off, the sound of rowers striking in rhythm 
Your harmonious waves.

 ... 

O lake! mute rocks! grottoes! dark forest!
You, who are spared by time or else made new,
Of that night preserve, O beautiful nature, preserve
At least the memory!

 ... 

May the moaning wind, the sighing reed,
May the gentle perfumes of your scented air,
May all that is heard, is seen or is inhaled,
All say: they have loved!