Tenderly

With a tender, pure love,

so that you will recall it,

here is my heart, my trembling heart,

my poor childish heart.

Here, too, pale flower

that you have made to bloom,

is my soul that dies for you

and your sweet eyes.

My soul is the chapel

Where, night and day,

my faithful love goes down on both knees

to pray before your immortal grace.

In shadow and mystery,

a sweet, slight

pagan prayer

sings lovingly.

'Tis your charming name.

With a tender, pure love,... etc.

Roses are in bloom

in the garden of my heart.

These roses of love are paler

than your adorable flowered lips.

With your cruel, cruel hands,

of which I am so jealous,

strip the leaves from the most beautiful of them.

You may pick them.

The garden is yours.

With a tender, pure love,... etc.