Leaning on the table and already in shadow, 
from the top of the steep terrace overlooking the dark sea,
the lovers, listening to the eternal rumor,
are silent and withdrawn, before the dying evening. 
Alcis dreams, immobile, head bent.
Canope has drawn slowly closer to him 
and, weary, has softly laid her charming head on his shoulder 
like a burden too heavy for her. 
Everything fills with silence. Deep in the distant yards, 
the sob of fountains is heard more distinctly. 
A few lights are scattered throughout the port. 
And the strange sigh that rises from the night,
mysterious confession from the deepest heart of things, 
this night, softens as it passes over the roses. 
Alcis dreams, and the immense peace, the sweetness 
of the night, the calm, infinite depth,
the crescent with a trembling star at its base,
and the murmuring sea, and this girl-child, who 
with her neck effortlessly thrown back on him,
seems dead with love among golden tresses.
Everything exalts him! A slow and solemn drunkenness 
seems to enlarge his tenderness to the stars. 
Shivering, he bends and contemplates for a long time 
the smooth brow veiled by floating hair, 
and the pink mouth where the teeth gleam, 
and the fair breast moved by a uniform and slow rhythm. 
Far away, leaves rustle. The night dreams. 
Alcis, his eyes on heaven, with a slow kiss 
on the mouth felt his soul alight, 
and suddenly his heart seems to break within him
because he feels that never, never again 
will he feel the adorable calm, 
the night and silence, and this friendly sea, 
and this kiss in the shadows for a slumberinig Canope.