Je veux aller mourir aux lieux o\u00f9 je suis n\u00e9e ;
\nLe tombeau d\u2019Albertine est pr\u00e8s de mon berceau ;
\nJe veux aller trouver son ombre abandonn\u00e9e ;
\nJe veux un m\u00eame lit pr\u00e8s du m\u00eame ruisseau.<\/p>\n
Je veux dormir. J\u2019ai soif de sommeil, d\u2019innocence,
\nD\u2019amour ! d\u2019un long silence \u00e9cout\u00e9 sans effroi,
\nDe l\u2019air pur qui soufflait au jour de ma naissance,
\nDoux pour l\u2019enfant du pauvre et pour l\u2019enfant du roi.<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai soif d\u2019un frais oubli, d\u2019une voix qui pardonne.
\nQu\u2019on me rende Albertine ! elle avait cette voix
\nQu\u2019un souvenir du ciel \u00e0 quelques femmes donne ;
\nElle a b\u00e9ni mon nom\u2026 autre part\u2026 autrefois !<\/p>\n
Autrefois !\u2026 qu\u2019il est loin le jour de son bapt\u00eame !
\nNous entr\u00e2mes au monde un jour qu\u2019il \u00e9tait beau :
\nLe sel qui l\u2019ondoya fut dissous sur moi-m\u00eame,
\nEt le pr\u00eatre pour nous n\u2019alluma qu\u2019un flambeau.<\/p>\n
D\u2019o\u00f9 vient-on quand on frappe aux portes de la terre ?
\nSans clart\u00e9 dans la vie, o\u00f9 s\u2019adressent nos pas ?
\nInconnus aux mortels qui nous tendent leurs bras,
\nPleurans, comme effray\u00e9s d\u2019un sort involontaire.<\/p>\n
O\u00f9 va-t-on quand, lass\u00e9 d\u2019un chemin sans bonheur.
\nOn tourne vers le ciel un regard charg\u00e9 d\u2019ombre ?
\nQuand on ferme sur nous l\u2019autre porte, si sombre !
\nEt qu\u2019un ami n\u2019a plus que nos traits dans son c\u0153ur ?<\/p>\n
Ah ! quand je descendrai rapide, palpitante,
\nL\u2019invisible sentier qu\u2019on ne remonte pas,
\nReconna\u00eetrai-je enfin la seule ame constante
\nQui m\u2019aimait imparfaite, et me grondait si bas !<\/p>\n
Te verrai-je, Albertine ! ombre jeune et craintive ;
\nJeune, tu t\u2019envolas peureuse des autans :
\nD\u00e9nouant pour mourir ta robe de printemps,
\nTu dis : \u00ab Semez ces fleurs sur ma cendre captive. \u00bb<\/p>\n
Oui ! je reconna\u00eetrai tes traits p\u00e2les, charmans !
\nMiroir de la piti\u00e9 qui marchait sur tes traces.
\nQui pleurait dans ta voix, ang\u00e9lisait tes gr\u00e2ces,
\nEt qui s\u2019enveloppait dans tes doux v\u00eatemens !<\/p>\n
Oui, tu ne m\u2019es qu\u2019absente, et la mort n\u2019est qu\u2019un voile,
\nAlbertine ! et tu sais l\u2019autre vie avant moi.
\nUn soir, j\u2019ai vu ton ame aux feux blancs d\u2019une \u00e9toile ;
\nElle a bais\u00e9 mon front, et j\u2019ai dit : C\u2019est donc toi !<\/p>\n
Viens encor ; viens ! j\u2019ai tant de choses \u00e0 te dire !
\nCe qu\u2019on t\u2019a fait souffrir, je le sais ! j\u2019ai souffert.
\n\u00d4 ma plus que s\u0153ur ! viens : ce que je n\u2019ose \u00e9crire,
\nViens le voir palpiter dans mon c\u0153ur entr\u2019ouvert !<\/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":[534],"poems-book":[538],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[208],"class_list":["post-11664","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-534","poems-book-les-pleurs","poete-marceline-desbordes-valmore"],"yoast_head":"\n