Classic Poem

11

As a wildlife continues the golden bird and memory,
Tristan, capricious fowler of your verses
Singing in my heart, however, that through
On the den crying Bearn cold black water ...

12

O attentive silence of a honey-colored night
Melancholy, and you, music, voice from heaven.

13

Or chaperone or husband know Melicertes,
A yeuter be close to them as it is good to sit,
Or, when the eye of heaven fades fingers evening
This small street where love confers us.

14

The time is more laughter; and your white sepulcher,
Lover of the past, hide your false pretense.

15

I saw your father and husband, both drunk,
Tika and almost bare them. Would you believe it?
I love to see you dress, Dohlia, your virtue
And show such low that it is difficult to follow.

16

The Annamite told me: "That is a nest of gouges."
Lowest flew a black butterfly with red eye.

17

Freedom without wanting is a wild toy.
But wild at its option the same freedom,
Under the hand that cherishes the price of pride
How sweet it is to bend his tenderness to serfdom!

18

A sulfur butterfly and flies and looks,
Looks like a flower that falls from the branch ...

19

Happy suns embraces music,
His soul flies to heaven to find the Lover.
But how to explain God from the beginning,
This plow is in a metaphysical desert!

20

I love Park Pau silver beech
Faustina, and paths through your mane haunted.