Steps

Thy steps, offspring of my silence,

Holily, slowly placed,

Towards the bed of my vigilance

Forward move mute and iced.

Person pure, shade divine,

How sweet they are, thy steps discreet!

Gods!... all the gifts I divine

Come to me on these bare feet!

If, with thy lips advanced,

To appease it thou preparest,

For the occupant of my thoughts

One kiss in all nourishment,

Do not haste this tender deed,

Sweetness of being and being not,

For I have lived awaiting thee,

And thy steps only was my heart.

Paul Valéry