Is this love's sadness? (With charm.)
The moonlight seems to wait for
A heart that will absorb it.
If the blue of want is sad
The smile of the blue sky sweetens the heart's lodestone.
If a soft regret persists
Does it love what does not exist
In this world? To love is sad.
(Calm.)
Your blurry eyes, your eyes grasping,
Your deep eyes alas! are empty,
As the skies are deep and alive
And the tenderness of pale blue (small sacred slow)
Is a lie in the opal
And in the sky and in your eyes.
Marcel Proust, 1894
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