La Fausse Morte

Humbly, tenderly, on the tomb charming,

On the monument unfeeling,

What shades, abandons, and love lavishing,

Form your grace languishing,

I die, I die on thee and am abased,

But scarce abased on the sepulcher base,

The close extent of which invites me to ashes,

This evidently dead one, in whom life again flashes,

Trembles, opens her eyes again, lights me and bites me,

And tears me ever a new dying

Than life more precious.

Paul Valéry