Opening

The piano kissed by a delicate hand

Gleams distantly in rose-grey evening

While with a wingtips’ weightless sound

A fine old tune, so fragile, charming

Roams discreetly, almost trembling,

Through the chamber She’s long perfumed.

What is this sudden cradle song

That gradually lulls my poor being?

What do you want of me, playful one?

What do you wish, slight vague refrain

Drifting now, dying, towards the window

Opening a little on a patch of garden?

The Piano Kissed..by Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)

http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/French/SelectedFrenchPoemsoftheNineteenthCentury.htm

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