Le soleil du d\u00e9sert ne luit plus sur ta lame,
\n\u00d4 mon large yatagan plus poli qu\u2019un miroir,
\nO\u00f9 Ka\u00efdha mirait son visage de femme,
\nComme un rayon sortant des ombres d\u2019un ciel noir ?<\/p>\n
Tu pends par la poign\u00e9e au pilier d\u2019une tente,
\nAvec mon narghil\u00e9, ma selle, et mon fusil ;
\nEt, semblable \u00e0 mon c\u0153ur qui s\u2019use dans l\u2019attente,
\nLa rouille et le repos te d\u00e9vorent le fil !<\/p>\n
Et toi, mon fier Sultan, \u00e0 la crini\u00e8re noire,
\nCoursier n\u00e9 des amours de la foudre et du vent,
\nDont quelques poils de jais tigraient la blanche moire,
\nDont le sabot mordait sur le sable mouvant,<\/p>\n
Que fais-tu maintenant, cher berceur de mes r\u00eaves ?
\nMon oreille aimait tant ton pas m\u00e9lodieux,
\nQuand la bruyante mer, dont nous suivions les gr\u00e8ves,
\nNous jetait sa fra\u00eecheur et son \u00e9cume aux yeux !<\/p>\n
Tu rengorgeais si beau ton cou marbr\u00e9 de veines,
\nQuand celle que ma main sur ta croupe \u00e9lan\u00e7ait
\nT\u2019appelait par ton nom, et, retirant tes r\u00eanes,
\nMarquetait de baisers ton poil qui fr\u00e9missait !<\/p>\n
Je la livrais sans peur \u00e0 ton galop sauvage !
\nLa vague de la mer, dans le golfe dormant,
\nMoins amoureusement berce pr\u00e8s du rivage
\nLa barque abandonn\u00e9e \u00e0 son balancement :<\/p>\n
Car, au plus l\u00e9ger cri qui gonflait sa poitrine,
\nTu t\u2019arr\u00eatais tournant ton bel \u0153il vers tes flancs,
\nEt, retenant ton feu dans ta rose narine,
\nDe l\u2019\u00e9cume du mors tu lavais ses pieds blancs.<\/p>\n
Penses-tu quelquefois, le front bas vers la terre,
\n\u00c0 ce ma\u00eetre venu dans ton d\u00e9sert natal,
\nQui parlait sur ta croupe une langue \u00e9trang\u00e8re,
\nEt qui t\u2019avait pay\u00e9 d\u2019un monceau de m\u00e9tal ?<\/p>\n
Penses-tu quelquefois \u00e0 la jeune ma\u00eetresse
\nQui pour parer ta bride, houri d\u2019un autre ciel,
\nD\u00e9tachait les rubis ou les fleurs de sa tresse,
\nEt dont la main t\u2019offrait de blancs cristaux de miel ?<\/p>\n
O\u00f9 sont-ils ? que font-ils ? quels climats les retiennent ?
\nLes vaisseaux dont tu vois souvent blanchir les m\u00e2ts,
\nCes grands oiseaux des mers qui vont et qui reviennent,
\nSur ton sable dor\u00e9 ne les d\u00e9posent pas.<\/p>\n
Ne les hennis-tu pas de ton naseau sonore ?
\nTon c\u0153ur dans ton poitrail ne bat-il pas d\u2019amour,
\nQuand ton oreille entend dans les champs de l\u2019aurore
\nLe nom, cher au Liban, de ce ma\u00eetre d\u2019un jour ?<\/p>\n
Oh ! oui, car de ta selle, en d\u00e9tachant mes armes,
\nTu me jetas tout triste un regard presque humain,
\nJe vis ton \u0153il bronz\u00e9 se ternir, et deux larmes,
\nLe long de tes naseaux, gliss\u00e8rent sur ma main !<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[481],"poems-book":[478],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[483],"class_list":["post-10779","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-481","poems-book-meditations-poetiques-inedites","poete-alphonse-de-lamartine"],"yoast_head":"\n