Rêverie N.3

Joyous minstrels once sang in the Sun

Forgotten outpost

of bygone glories,
hidden behind your oaken guard,
a cavern of light —
real or not, yet real within me.

Silent in summer, lovelier in winter,
you should be known by all,
yet I alone know you.

Heaven-sent, fleeting spirit, stay with me!
You are not mine — ‘tis I who am yours.
I hold the key to your door;
yours is the key I offer to my heart.

Hush — the old raven still rules the forest.
He lifts his weary wings
and glides through the felled firs.

Joyous minstrels once sang in the sun;
now only noble, frozen soldiers remain.