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Flowers, beautiful in your sublime decay, I press you to my lips; these northern solitudes, far from the rank Parisian garden where I gathered you, are full of you, even as the sea-shell of the sea, and the sun that sets on this wild moorland evokes the magical verse: "Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique Nous échangerons un éclair unique Comme un long sanglot tout chargé d'adieux."
Flowers, beautiful in your sublime decay, I press you to my lips; these northern solitudes, far from the rank Parisian garden where I gathered you, are full of you, even as the sea-shell of the sea, and the sun that sets on this wild moorland evokes the magical verse: "Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique Nous échangerons un éclair unique Comme un long sanglot tout chargé d'adieux."
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