Poems (Bibesco)/XVII
XVII
In a pale rose the heart of summer lies;A glow-worm breaks the blackness of the night;On the still air a petal floats and dies;One more pale flame is swallowed by the light,
A wanton bud is drinking up the rain,Believing it will some day be a rose;The fickle earth is fertile once again;The lustful sun in crimson triumph glows.
I want the flower that was yesterday,And gave its fading fragrance to the air;I want the flame that flickered in the frayAnd knew the blatant brightness of despair.
What do I care for this awakening?God give me deafness lest I hear the shout,The harsh, forgetful tumult of the spring;My rose is withered and my fire is out,