Au Bois Dormant

The princess in a rosebud palace pure,

Under the murmurs and mobile shadow sleeps;

And with coral sketches a word obscure

When the lost birds peck her golden rings.

She doesn’t hear the droplets, in their falling,

Chime of a void and distant age the treasure,

Nor, on the vague forest, a blended flute-wind

Rend of a horn’s phrase its very rumor.

Let long the echo lull back to sleep the diana,

O ever more equal to the soft liana

That sways and beats upon your buried eyes.

So nigh your cheek and therewith slow the rose

Will not dissipate those folds’ delight

Secretly sensible of the ray there posed.

Paul Valéry