Classic Poem

I

The WATER clear like salt of childhood tears;
storm the sun whiteness women's bodies;
silk, in crowds and pure lilies, banners
under the walls of which some had the maiden defense;
frolic of angels-no ... the golden stream running
moves his arms, black and heavy and especially fresh, grass. She
dark before the Blue-sky canopy, called
curtain shade of the hill and the ark.

II

Eh! wet tile tends its clear broth!
the furniture and pale gold background without ready water layers.
Green and faded dresses girls
are the willows, where the birds without flanges jump.
More yellow than louis, pure and warm eyelid
concern water-ta conjugal faith, O the Bride! -
prompt the south, its dull mirror, jealous
gray sky heat rose and expensive Sphere.

III

Lady takes too standing in the meadow
next where work under snow son; umbrella
fingers; treading the umbel; too proud for her
children reading in the floral greenery
their pound of red morocco! Alas, He, like
thousand white angels who separate on the road,
away beyond the mountains! It, all
cold and dark, short! after the departure of the man!

IV

Regrets thick arms and young pure grass!
April gold moons in the heart of Saint bed! Joy
yards bordering abandoned, prey
the evening of August that were germinated these rots!
May she now weeps under the ramparts! breath
poplars above is only for the breeze.
Then this is the web without reflections, without source, gray:
an old, flirty, still in his boat, barely.

V

Toy water this dreary eye. I will then take
O boat motionless! oh! arms too short! neither one
nor the other flower: yellow or that bothers me,
there; or blue, friends, the ashen water.

Ah! powder willow wing that shakes!
pink reeds long since devoured!
My canoe, always fixed; and its chain driven
at the bottom of this water eye without edges, what mud?