I divine behind a whisper
The subtle rustling of the ancient voices
And, in the musical glimmers,
Ô pale love, the future of a sunrise!
And my soul and heart upside down,
No longer are but some kind of a double eye,
Which flickers through an uncertain day
The arietta, alas! Of every lyre !
Ô dying like this all alone,
As , leaving - dear frightening love -
Swinging young and old hours,
Ô dying of this swing.