DannyCGN Poetry (5)

What is love? A lifetime spent
Of days that pain does fill,
That thousand tears can’t content,
But asks for tears still.

With but a little glance coquet
Your soul it knows to tie,
That of it’s spell you can’t forget
Until the day you die.

Upon your threshold does it stand,
In every nook conspire,
That you may whisper hand in hand
Your tale of heart’s aspire.

Till fades the very earth and sky,
Your heart completely broken,
And all the world hangs on a sigh,
A word but partly spoken.

It follows you for weeks and weeks
And in your soul assembles
The memory of blushing cheeks
And eyelash fair that trembles.

It comes to you a sudden ray
As though of starlight’s spending,
How many and many a time each day
And every night unending.

For of your life has fate decreed
That pain shall it enfold,
As does the clinging water-weed
About a swimmer hold.

And if the branches tap my pane
And the poplars whisper nightly,
It is to make me dream again
I hold you to me tightly.
And if the stars shine on the pond
And light its sombre shoal,
It is to quench my mind's despond
And flood with peace my soul.

And if the clouds their tresses part
And does the moon outblaze,
It is but to remind my heart
I long for you always.

Dreary the horn sounds in the eve on the hill,
Sheepflocks return, stars on their way twinkle still,
Watersprings weep murmuring clear, and I see
Under a tree, love, thou art waiting for me.

Holy and pure passes the moon on the sky,
Moist seem the stars born from the vault clear and high,
Longing thine eyes look from afar to divine,
Heaving thy breast, pensive thy head doth recline.

Tired with their toil, peasants come back from the field,
From the old church, labourer's comfort and shield,
Voices of bells thrill the whole sky high above;
Struck is my heart, trembling and burning with love.

Ah! very soon quietness steals over all,
Ah! very soon hasten shall I to thy call,
Under the tree, there I shall sit the whole night,
Telling thee, love, thou art my only delight.

Cheek press'd to cheek, there in sweet ecstasy we,
Falling asleep under the old locust-tree,
Smiling in dream, seem in a heaven to live,
For such a night who his whole life would not give?

- Quelle heure est-il ?
- Il est midi
- Qui te l'a dit ?
- la petite souris
- Où donc est-elle ?
- Dans la chapelle
- Qu'y fait-elle ?
- De la dentelle
- Pour qui ?
- Pour une demoiselle
- Pour quelle?
- Pour la plus belle
- Et qui est la plus belle?
- C´ést toi la plus belle

Big white snowflakes from the sky are falling
...
For the first time since we´ve meet is snowing
And for us, from the of fresh snow sprawling
I will build a white bed, as you are deaming
To make love just ... like in the begining
Without fear for sin ... becouse
over us,
in the morning,
will be snowing!