"Horatiu's Angel" - 60x80 oil on canvas.
"Souvenirs, souvenirs, what do you want of me? Autumn
Invites the thrush to fly through the air lifeless sans tone,
And the sun beats its rays down: relentless monotone
Over the yellowing wood where claps the North wind’s thunder tone.
We were walking all by ourselves as if in a dream,
She and I, haïr and thoughts buffeted by the wind’s non-esteem.
All of a sudden, she turned towards me her looks agleam
« Which was your most beautiful day? » did her lively golden voice beam.
Her voice soft and sonorous, a fresh timbre angelic.
A discreet smile she did redeem as a reaction cyclic,
And her blanched hand I kissed with devoutness.
Oh! the first flowers, how their scent liberates perfumes!
And the first sounds they emit akin to charming murmur
The first « yes » that escapes the lips of virgin dames consumes!"
Nevermore
By Paul Verlaine
Credits: http://m.poemhunter.com/poem/nevermore-translation-of-paul-verlaine-s-sonnet-nevermore/
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