From beneath a mysterious and ice-cold half-mask,
Your voice sounded as flattering as a dream to me;
Your beguiling eyes gleamed at me,
And your cunning mouth smiled.
Unconsciously I noticed through a wispy haze
The paleness of your virgin cheeks and neck.
Lucky creature! I glimpsed a wilful curl
Leaping from a wave of native locks.
And from these small signs I made
In my imagination a heavenly beauty.
And from then on I held you in my soul,
Caressing and cherishing this ethereal apparition.
And this is what it seems to me: that long ago
I already had this lively conversation.
And someone whispered to me: when this is over,
We will meet again as good old friends.
1840 or 1841 (Transl. 18—19 Sept. 2007, St Albans)
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