Canope's Slumber

Leaning on the table and already in shadow,

from the top of the steep terrace overlooking the dark sea,

the lovers, listening to the eternal rumor,

are silent and withdrawn, before the dying evening.

Alcis dreams, immobile, head bent.

Canope has drawn slowly closer to him

and, weary, has softly laid her charming head on his shoulder

like a burden too heavy for her.

Everything fills with silence. Deep in the distant yards,

the sob of fountains is heard more distinctly.

A few lights are scattered throughout the port.

And the strange sigh that rises from the night,

mysterious confession from the deepest heart of things,

this night, softens as it passes over the roses.

Alcis dreams, and the immense peace, the sweetness

of the night, the calm, infinite depth,

the crescent with a trembling star at its base,

and the murmuring sea, and this girl-child, who

with her neck effortlessly thrown back on him,

seems dead with love among golden tresses.

Everything exalts him! A slow and solemn drunkenness

seems to enlarge his tenderness to the stars.

Shivering, he bends and contemplates for a long time

the smooth brow veiled by floating hair,

and the pink mouth where the teeth gleam,

and the fair breast moved by a uniform and slow rhythm.

Far away, leaves rustle. The night dreams.

Alcis, his eyes on heaven, with a slow kiss

on the mouth felt his soul alight,

and suddenly his heart seems to break within him

because he feels that never, never again

will he feel the adorable calm,

the night and silence, and this friendly sea,

and this kiss in the shadows for a slumberinig Canope.