PETIT AIR
I
Somehow a solitude
With neither swan nor quay
Surveys its desuetude
With the glance I turned away
Here from the vainglory
Too remote for touch
Bejeweling many a heaven
With the opulence of dusk
But traces languorously
As snowy linnen doffed
Such fugitive bird alongside
You exultant one in the surf
To plunge were to become
Your naked jubilation.
PETIT AIR
II
Inexorably bound
As my hope launching high
To shatter there lost
In fury and silence,
Voice strange to the grove
Or by no echo trailed,
The bird in life never
Another time heard.
The weird musician,
The one who leaves in doubt
If from my breast or his
The wilder sob broke out,
May he tear himself away
On some path to stay!
