Inflamed, are dancing round about;
The sky dissolves in flashes rare
Of trembling gold, a dazzling rout;
The earth appears with rapture buoyed
And vibrates as if overjoyed;
The sounds come stealing o'er to me
Of strange, delightful harmony;
I hear the sound of kisses, - feel
The fluttering of wings, - I reel
And close my eyelids! - Who is nigh?
- 'T is Eros, who is passing by.
(Translated by Jules Renard)