I
on silent, black tide, the sleep of the star party, drives
, a large lily, and Ophelia,
the pale, slow-down in her veil.
is heard in the distant woods, the hunter Hallala.
So, white dream, more even than a thousand years, draws sad
Ophelia on the black water;
her gently perturbed spirit, more than a thousand years,
sings softly in the evening breeze to be romantic song
The wind kisses her breasts and silk bags on the veil,
like a cone, the water gently cradled
on her shoulder, shuddering softly, cries pasture,
on its large brow dream is the Red Journal.
sighs The water rose, touched by their hovering,
sometimes from sleep in a conical tree,
it awakens a nest the bang out of it cancel each wing.
falls mysteriously Sang golden star from space.
II
O, as beautiful as snow, Ophelia, you customary,
you died, carried away by a current, child!
For, quiet Loud, sang of the harsh realm of freedom
in Norway's mountains you like the wind.
An unknown breath is strange arge customer
your hair by burrowing, put your dreamer spirit;
your heart, it felt with the nature of the alliance,
heard it sigh, lament song in the night.
The ocean great reputation, a groan, big and bitter
broke your child's heart, too human and too soft;
and a sat morning in April, a knight
silently on your knees, so distraught and pale.
from the sky, love, freedom has pronounced your dream
turn, fool, you melted like snow, consumed by fire.
Nipped of deep acting is you broke your word.
- of all things horror has destroyed your blue in August
III
The poet says that in the nights star party
you picked the flowers are looking for, he maintained,
to propel the flood, on her long veil,
Ophelia, great, white lily, gebahrt!
- Arthur Rimbaud
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