Deep love

Night and day, despite myself, when I am far from her,
To my ardent thought a faithful memory
Bring her back;
I seem to hear her sweet voice like the distant song of a bird;
I see her with her gold necklace, with her white dress,
And her blue belt, and the fresh periwinkle
From her straw hat, and the linen smile
That discovers her pearl teeth
finally
That I saw her one evening in this wood of old elms
That covers the path of their shadows ;
And I love her with deep love because it's not
A woman with a pale complexion, and measuring her steps
At the cloudy glance of languor, an Englishwoman
Morne like the sky of London, that likes
The head on her hand to dream long,
To read Grandisson and Werther, not really;
But a beautiful child inconstant and frivolous,
Who never dreams; a creole brunette
With big arched eyebrows; with long velvet eyes
Whose stealthy glances always pursue you;
To the slender waist, to the divine throat,
That beneath the folds of the linen the sensuality divines.