Théophile Gautier - Sentimental Moonlight

Théophile Gautier

Sentimental Moonlight

“Through the wild laughter
That St. Mark sends back to the Lido,
A range rises like a rocket,
Like a jet of water in the moonlight...

In the air that chatters in a mocking tone
And shakes its bells in the wind,
A regret, a dove being smothered,
Mingles its sobs for a moment.

In the distance, in the sonorous mist,
Like a dream almost faded,
I saw again, pale and sad still,
My old love from last year.

My soul in tears remembered
Of April, when, watching in the woods
For the violets to bloom,
We mingled our fingers beneath the grass.

That melodious note,
Vibrating like a harmonica,
Is the childish, high-pitched voice,
A silver arrow that pierced me.

The sound is so false, so tender,
So mocking, so sweet, so cruel,
So cold, so burning, that to hear it
Is to feel a mortal pleasure,

And my heart, like the vault
From which water weeps into a basin,
Lets fall drop by drop
Its red tears into my breast.

Jovial and melancholic,
Ah! Old theme of carnival,
Where laughter echoes with tears,
How your charm has hurt me!”

Théophile Gautier - Émaux et Camées