Classic Poem

.... Write to me, I want: this enchanting trade
Kind outpouring of mind and heart,
The art of conversation without seeing without understanding,
This silent maintenance, so charming and so tender,
The art of writing, Abelard was probably invented
By captive lover and lover restless.
Everything lives by the heat of an eloquent letter,
The feeling he painted under the fingers of a lover,
His heart develops there: it can without blushing
Y put all the fire of sexual desire ...
Alas! our union was legitimate and pure:
We made it a crime, and the sky whisper.
In your heart virtuous when my heart was bound,
When you offered me love in the name of friendship,
Your eyes then glowed with soft light;
My soul into thy bosom was lost entirely.
I thought you were a god, I saw you without fear:
I was looking for a mistake that you deceived me.
Ah! that it cost you little to charm Heloise !
You spoke to your voice ... you saw before me.
You painted me the benevolent love, enchanting;
Persuasion crept into my heart.
Alas! it flowed from your eloquent mouth,
Your lips were those of a lover.
I loved you, I knew I followed pleasure;
I no longer had my god a small souvenir.
I you all slain, duty, honor, wisdom
I loved Abelard , and in my sweet intoxication,
The rest of the land was lost to me:
My world, my god, I found everything about you.
?You know, when your soul to mine chained,
Urged me to tighten the knot of matrimony,
I said: "Dear lover, alas! qu'exiges you?
Love is not a crime, it is a virtue.
Why subservient to tyrannical laws?
Why be captivated by political nodes?
Love is not a slave, and the pure sense
In the heart of human beings are born free, independent.
Let us pleasure, without uniting our fortunes:
Believe me, the hymen is made for common souls,
For lovers come with infidelity:
I find love in my property, my pleasure.
True love is not afraid of perjury:
We love it enough, and follow nature:
Learn the art of loving, please turn;
Do look, in a word, that love in love.
The greatest of kings, descended from his throne,
Come to put my feet his scepter and crown;
And, offering me his hand, as the price of my attractions,
His lavish love puts me under the canopy;
Then they will see me choose what I like
In the glow of greatness, the monarch, to myself.
Abelard , you know, my throne is in your heart:
Your heart is all I have, my title, my greatness.
Despising all these names that fortune inventing,
I wear with pride, the name of your lover:
If it is a softer and more worthy of me:
If painted better my love, I'll take it for you.
Abelard , how sweet it is to love, to please!
This is the first act, the rest is arbitrary.
Happier than two young lovers which mortals
United by their tastes and feelings,
That risk and games that addiction brings,
Who think both, expressed together
That confuse the joy in their pleasures,
Who, enjoying always, always have desires?
Their hearts are always filled experience point blank
The sweet illusion to their happiness chairs:
In a golden cup they drink deep drafts
Forgetting all evil and imperfect goods.
If love is enough for them, they are probably happy.
We seek happiness, love is the road:
Love leads to pleasure, love is the true good. "
This was, dear Abelard , and your fate and mine.
?How times have changed! O day, miserable day!
Dreadful day when the steel in a guilty hand
Osa ... What! I have not rejected his efforts?
Unfortunately Heloise! ah! what was I doing then?
My arms, my despair, tears of a lover
Have ... nothing flexes their simmering rage.
Barbaric, stop, follow my husband:
Only I deserve to perish in your shots.
Punish you love, and love is my crime
Yes, I like fury, hit your victim.
You do not listen to me! blood flows ... ah! Cruel!
What! my cry, my tears will appear criminals?
What! I can not complain in my sad misfortune?
Our pleasures are destroyed: my blushes told the rest.
But what is the harsh fate that we lost!
We are in the abyss another open pit ....