Par ce soir fin, tra\u00eenant et plat,
\nDe la tristesse pleut des branches,
\nOn respire, dans l\u2019air qui penche,
\nUne odeur de secret lilas.<\/p>\n
Ce lilas, derri\u00e8re les grilles
\nD\u2019un petit jardin triste et doux,
\nDonne un parfum plus fort, plus fou
\nQue ne font toutes les vanilles.<\/p>\n
\u2013 Lilas qui passerez bient\u00f4t,
\nVotre c\u0153ur, plus qu\u2019aucun c\u0153ur d\u2019homme,
\nVaut qu\u2019on le r\u00e9v\u00e8re et le nomme
\nPour son d\u00e9lire et son fardeau.<\/p>\n
Arbre dont le sang se consume
\nD\u2019amour pour l\u2019air des belles nuits,
\nAmant plein de divins ennuis
\nCouch\u00e9 sur l\u2019insensible brume,<\/p>\n
Vous qui sentez d\u2019\u00e2pres langueurs
\nVous percer jusqu\u2019aux tendres moelles,
\nEt qui jetez jusqu\u2019aux \u00e9toiles
\nLe d\u00e9sespoir de votre odeur,<\/p>\n
Vous qui donnez en pure perte
\nDe tels \u00e9lans, de tels serments,
\nEt votre fol \u00e9nervement
\nAux brises de la nuit inerte,<\/p>\n
Vous dont l\u2019extase est un tel cri
\nQue le rossignol m\u00eame \u00e9coute
\nLe sanglot que fait sur la route
\nUn parfum si lourd, si meurtri,<\/p>\n
Voyez comme je suis pareille
\nA tous vos p\u00e9tales bless\u00e9s,
\nMoi dont chaque nerf insens\u00e9
\nEst plus piquant qu\u2019aucune abeille !<\/p>\n
\u2013 Ah ! comment ne viennent-ils pas,
\nLes r\u00eaveurs, en p\u00e8lerinage,
\nCe soir, ainsi que des rois mages,
\nVers ma vie et vers ce lilas !<\/p>\n
Ah ! quelle insurmontable ivresse,
\nDont on n\u2019aurait jamais joui,
\n\u00d4 mon lilas \u00e9vanoui,
\nVaut votre odeur et ma tristesse !<\/p>\n
Toutes les barques d\u2019Orient
\nPleines de roses et d\u2019\u00e9pices,
\nDans l\u2019air suave, ardent et lisse,
\nFont un sillage moins criant<\/p>\n
Que ne fait sur la douce all\u00e9e
\nL\u2019arome du penchant lilas,
\nEt que ne fait dans le soir las
\nUne \u00e2me toujours d\u00e9sol\u00e9e !<\/p>\n
\u2013 Ces frissons mous, ces pleurs d\u00e9ments,
\nCes jets de soupir et de r\u00eave,
\nCe tendre c\u0153ur des fleurs, qui cr\u00e8ve,
\nCes bienheureux titubements,<\/p>\n
Ces lacs d\u2019odeur dans les branchages,
\nEt cette belle humilit\u00e9
\nDu soir, molli de volupt\u00e9,
\nQui veut qu\u2019on l\u2019use et le saccage,<\/p>\n
\u00c9t\u00e9s ! vous les verrez encor.
\nVous en qui l\u2019infini respire,
\nMais moi ! qui dira mon d\u00e9lire
\nLe jour o\u00f9 mon corps sera mort ?\u2026<\/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":[603],"poems-book":[593],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[611],"class_list":["post-12957","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-603","poems-book-les-eblouissements","poete-anna-de-noailles"],"yoast_head":"\n