European Elegies/Autumn (2)/Evening peace
90.EVENING PEACE
Be wise, my grief, and let your sobbing cease.You asked for night: and now it darkens downIn grey enfolding shadows o'er the town,Bringing to some pale care, to others peace. And while the common multitude of menBeneath the lash of pitiless excessSow their remorse in weak licentiousness,Give me, my grief, thy hand; come hither then, Far from their path. See how the dead years leanIn faded garments from the galleried sky,And glad regrets rise from the watery deep; Beneath the vault, the sick sun sinks to die,And, like a long shroud drawn in grief between,Comes the soft silence of the night, and sleep.
From the French of Charles Baudelaire.