Roses of winter

Do you remember the day, the hour, the moment?

The winter night was so pale and barren

that the frost in the lane

barely gleamed in the indecisive light of a shivering star!

And how the thicket had neither birdsongs

nor white flights of pigeons striping the clear water

to forget the sad exile of the birds!

I held your fingers that trembled like wings!

And because the snow had spread its pallor

to the trees that wept, their flowers gone,

along the paths, so as to evoke the absent flowers,

I watched your flower-like eyes open.

And because on their bushes the wild roses

no longer breathe the intoxicating charm of their perfumes,

to go before the awakening of dead scents,

I gathered your kisses of love, those roses!