Whisper around my pod,
Sweet sea whose cherished waves,
As a faithful lover,
Cast an eternal complaint
On these poetic debris.
That I love to float on your wave.
At the time when from the top of the rock
The orange tree, the fruitful vine,
Pour on your deep wave
A shade conducive to boating!
Often, in my boat without oars,
Entrusting myself to your love,
As if to make my soul sleep,
I close to the movement of your blade
My tired looks of the day.
Like a supple and docile courier
Whose bit we let float,
Always, towards some fresh asylum,
You push my fragile boat
With the foam from your edges.
Ah! rock, rock, rock again,
Rock for the last time,
Rock this child who adores you,
And who since her tender dawn
Only dreamed of the waves and the woods!
The God who decorated the world
Of your graceful element,
So that everything here responds,
Made the heavens to shine on the wave,
The wave to reflect the heavens.
As pure as in my eyelid,
The day penetrates your pure flow,
And in your brilliant career
You seem to roll the light
With your waves of gold and azure.
As free as thought,
You break the ship of kings,
And in your senseless anger,
Faithful to the God who launched you,
You only stop at his voice.
Of the infinite sublime image,
From waves to waves, the eye carried away
Follows you in vain from beach to beach,
The spirit searches in vain for your shore,
Like those of eternity.
Your majestic and sweet voice
Makes the echo of your edges tremble,
Or on the grass that repels you,
Like the zephyr in the foam,
Whisper of dying chords.
That I love you, oh relaxed wave,
When, under my timid vessel,
Like a giant who humbles himself,
Under this vain weight the wave which bends
Digs me a liquid cradle.
That I love you when, the zephire
Asleep in your cool lairs,
Your shore seems to smile
To see in your breast that he admires
Float the shadow of its forests!
That I love you when on my stern
Festoons of a thousand colors,
Hanging in the wind that cuts them,
Crown you like a cup
Whose edges are veiled with flowers!
How sweet it is, when the wind caresses
Your softly agitated breast,
To see, under my hand which presses it,
Your wave, which rises and falls
Like the breast of beauty!
Come, to my fugitive boat
Come give the kiss of farewell;
A plaintive voice rolls around,
And the foam from your shore
Wet my forehead and eyes again.
Leave on your moving plain
Float my pod as it pleases,
Or under the sibyl's lair,
Or on Virgil's tomb:
Each of your waves is sacred to me.
Everywhere, on your darling shore,
Where love awakened my heart,
My soul, at its tender sight,
Find an asylum, a homeland,
And the debris of his happiness,
Floats at random: on some beach
That you make me drift,
Each flow brings me an image;
Every rock on your shore
Makes me remember or dream...
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