Victor Hugo, ‘Demain, dès l’aube..’
Tomorrow, when the land turns white with rising day,
I shall go. I know that you are waiting for me there.
I will go through forests, I will go by mountain ways.
I have been away from you too long for me to bear.
I shall walk, my eyes fixed only on my mind,
Deaf to every sound, and blind to every sight,
Alone, known to no-one, with bent back and crossed hands,
In sorrow, and the day for me shall be as night.
I shall not see the gold that evening rays engrave,
Nor the far-off sails turning towards home,
And when I arrive, I will place there on your grave
A bouquet of green holly and of heather in bloom.