Chapter XXIII

In this rugged winter when the floating sun
founders on the horizon like a heavy wreck, I
love to say your name, with its slow, solemn
tone, as the clock echoes with the deep strokes
of time.

And the more I say it, the more ravished is my
voice, so much so that from my lips it descends
into my heart and awakens in me a more glowing
happiness than the sweetest words I have spoken
in my life.

And before the new dawn or the evening falling
to sleep, I repeat it with my voice that is ever
the same, but oh! with what strength and supreme
ardour shall I pronounce it at the hour of death!