Romance

The vanishing and suffering soul,

The sweet soul, the fragrant soul

Of divine lilies that I have picked

In the garden of your thoughts,

Where, then, have the winds chased it,

This charming soul of the lilies?

Is there no longer a perfume that remains

Of the celestial sweetness

Of the days when you enveloped me

In a supernatural haze,

Made of hope, of faithful love,

Of bliss and of peace?