Alphonse de Lamartine - The Lake
Thus, ever driven toward new shores,
Carried away without return into the eternal night,
Shall we never be able, on the ocean of ages,
To cast anchor for a single day?
O lake! The year has scarcely finished its course,
And near the cherished waters it was destined to see again,
Look! I come alone to sit upon this stone
Where you saw her sit!
You roared thus beneath these deep rocks,
Thus you broke upon their jagged sides,
Thus the wind cast the foam of your waves
Upon her beloved feet.
One evening, do you remember? We sailed in silence;
In the distance, on the water and beneath the sky, nothing could be heard but the sound of the oarsmen striking in rhythm
Your harmonious waves.
Suddenly, accents unknown on earth
Reached the echoes from the enchanted shore:
The wave was attentive, and the voice dear to me
Dropped these words:
"O Time! Suspend your flight, and you, propitious hours!
Suspend your course:
Let us savor the fleeting delights
Of our most beautiful days!
Enough unhappy souls here below implore you,
Flow on, flow on for them;
Take with their days the cares that devour them,
Forget the happy ones.
But I ask in vain for a few moments more,
Time escapes me and flees;
I say to this night: be slower; and dawn
Goes to dispel the night.
Let us love then, let us love then!" Of the fleeting hour,
Let us hasten, let us enjoy!
Man has no harbor, time has no shore;
It flows, and we pass away!
Jealous Time, is it possible that these moments of rapture,
When love pours happiness upon us in long streams,
Fly from us with the same speed
As days of misfortune?
What! Can we not at least fix their trace?
What! Gone forever! What! Entirely lost!
This time that gave them, this time that erases them,
Will never give them back to us!
Eternity, nothingness, past, dark abysses,
What do you do with the days you swallow up?
Speak: will you give us back these sublime ecstasies
That you steal from us?
O lake! Silent rocks! Caves! Dark forest!
You, whom time spares or can rejuvenate,
Preserve from this night, preserve, beautiful nature,
At least the memory!
Let it be in your stillness, let it be in your storms,
Beautiful lake, and in the aspect of your smiling hillsides,
And in those dark fir trees, and in those wild rocks
That hang over your waters.
Let the moaning wind, the sighing reed,
Let the light perfumes of your fragrant air,
Let all that is heard, seen, or breathed,
All say: They loved!
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