Fan
Claude Achille Debussy
O dreamer-girl, if you'd have me plunge
Into pureless path delight,
Manage, through a subtle lie
To keep my wing in your hand.
A freshness of twilight
Comes to you at each beat
Whose imprisoned stroke thrusts back
The horizon delicately.
Vertigo! see how shivers
Space like a great kiss
Which, mad at being born for no one,
Can neither spurt nor be calmed.
Do you sense the fierce paradise
Like a buried laugh
Flow from the corner of your mouth
Deep into the unanimous fold!
The scepter of pink shores
Stagnant on golden evenings, this it is,
This closed white wing you place
Against the fire of a bracelet.