The Bird cruel...

The Bird cruel keeps me all night long

At the fine point of delight hearkening

Its voice an ire so tender addressing

To the sky aflame with stars until dawn.

You pierce the soul and the fate decide on

Of such a look as cannot bear changing;

All that has been you make as ash heaping,

Oh voice too loud, instinct with passion...

Sunup in the dark sketches the likeness

Of a lovely day I find a nowhere:

One day more is naught but landscape useless,

Whatever is a day with yours not there?

No!... Unto nighttime my soul turned away

Refuses sunup and the youthful day.

Paul Valéry