Classic Poem

O Bois de Boulogne, don't you remember
When the whole world was at our command,
When, under the cover of darkness, my love and I
At night hurried to you.
How we lingered there talking as we pleased
With no one at all to overhear us,
When we quenched our passion, the words of my darling
Were sweet as the melody of a lute.
How we roamed freely in your open spaces,
While there was no motion in the wind,
The birds were asleep, the whole world in deep slumber.
We passed the night in pleasures, watched only
By one solitary envious star.
How we paused at each corner, dallied at each spot,
Drunk as we gazed in each other's eyes,
Our love—it was a child newborn,
Our breasts his cradle, his charm in our hearts,
The branches bowed down in seemly homage;
The star looked on with unwinking eye,
Till, at the call for parting, our sweet bond was severed,
Now seas divide me from her, and beyond them desert upon desert
My night's now in Egypt and hers in the West.
How blessed is the night that has her company!