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I would erect, at my own expense, a monument to Molière if Alceste would make my love take this form. I have never seen an inventory of the torments of love some of them have the most vulgar and some the most innocent names in the world. Some poet make his love-sick hero say: "Un jour, Dieu, par pitié, délivra les enfers Des tourments que pour vous, madame, j'ai soufferts!"
In reply Boris wrote these lines: Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, Toi, sans qui le bonheur me serait impossible, Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, Viens calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, Et mele une douceur secrete A ces pleurs que je sens couler. *
The music of this is mediocre beyond words. The Marquis tries to show, by a few high soprano notes, how high my wildest flights of aspirations fly before I could ever reach the subject of my love. "Mes tourments" and "le doux plaisir d'aimer" get so mixed that I don't know myself what I am singing about.
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