by Gerard Nerval



The Thirteenth returns... Once more she is the first;

And she is still the only one, or is this the only moment;

For you are surely queen, first and last?

For you are surely king, O first and last lover?...



Love the one who loves you from the cradle to the grave;

The one alone I love loves me dearly still:

She is death - or the dead one... Delight or torment!

And the rose she holds is the hollyhock.



Saint of Naples with your hands full of fire,

Mauve-hearted rose, flower of Saint Gudule:

Have you discovered your cross in the desert of the skies?



White roses, fall! you offend our gods