Alfred de Musset “In Venice the Red” (1810 - 1857)

Alfred de Musset

In Venice the Red (1844)

“In Venice the Red
Not a boat in sight,
Not a fisherman in the water,
Not a lantern.

Ah! Now more than one
Waits in the moonlight
For some young lily of the valley,
Ears pricked up.

For the ball that is being prepared
More than one is adorning herself
Standing before her mirror
Putting on her black mask.

Let us leave the old clock
In the palace of the old doge
To count his nights
And his long boredom.

Let us count instead, my beauty,
On your rebellious lips
So many kisses given
And forgiven.

Let us rather count your charms,
Let us count the sweet tears
That your eyes have shed
For pleasure.

...Magnificent roofs! Cold monuments!
Golden shrouds over bones!
Here lies Venice.
There my poor heart remains.
If it is to be returned to me,
May God bring it back!

My poor heart, did you find it
On the path, under a paving stone,
At the bottom of a glass?
Or in that great palace, Nani,
Whose noble stone has been yellowed by so many suns?

Did you see it on the flowers in the meadows,
Or on the purple grapes
Or on the crimson grapes
Of a bower?
Or in some frail boat,
Gliding in the shade and cutting through the water
With the wind in its sails?

Did you find it in tatters
On the shore where the tombs are?
It must be there.
I don't know who will look for it there,
But I believe that no one will be able to
Recognise it there.

He was cheerful, young and bold;
He threw himself recklessly
Into adventure.
He breathed the air freely,
And sometimes he showed pride
In a wound.

He was credulous, being loyal,
Refusing to believe in evil
As if it were a crime.
Then suddenly he melted away
Like a glacier suspended
Over an abyss...”
Alfred de Musset - Poems to my brother returning from Italy, March 1844