And yet again do I mull o’er this bliss
I used to hold close to my heart. In my
Mind’s eye I trace the contours of the breeze
That fed me life from every little sigh
You made—when you still loved me; and this kiss,
This precious gift, is now a deadened lie.
The sun has set. I see what really is:
And love is love only when lovers die.
From here I see life, through a misty steam,
Vanishing in the shadow of the past;
Love alone remains: as alone, one vast
Image stays, when we waken from a dream.
So! Life ends there, under that bubbling stream,
And I will die; I give myself at last.
Author’s note: Italicised lines above from Le Vallon by Alphonse de Lamartine, lines 33-36, trans. E. H. and A. M. Blackmore.