Mes souvenirs, ce soir, me s\u00e9parent de toi ;
\nAu-dessus de tes yeux, de ta voix qui me parle,
\nDe ce frais horizon d\u2019\u00e9glises et de toits,
\nJ\u2019\u00e9coute, dans mon r\u00eave o\u00f9 fr\u00e9mit leur \u00e9moi,
\n\ufeffLes hirondelles sur le ciel d\u2019Arles !<\/p>\n
La nuit \u00e9tait torride \u00e0 l\u2019heure du couchant.
\nLes doux cieux languissaient comme une barcarolle ;
\nDeux colonnes des Grecs, levant leurs bras touchants,
\nSemblaient une Andromaque \u00e9plor\u00e9e, et cherchant
\n\ufeff\u00c0 fl\u00e9chir une ombre qui s\u2019envole !<\/p>\n
Ce qu\u2019un beau soir contient de perfide langueur
\nPloyait dans un silence empli de bruits infimes ;
\nJe regardais, les mains retombant sur mon c\u0153ur,
\nBriller ainsi qu\u2019un vase o\u00f9 coule la chaleur,
\n\ufeffLe p\u00e2le clo\u00eetre de Saint-Trophime !<\/p>\n
Une brise amollie et lourde de parfums,
\nGlissait, silencieuse, au bord gisant du Rh\u00f4ne.
\nTout ce que l\u2019on obtient me semblait importun,
\nMes pens\u00e9es, mes d\u00e9sirs, s\u2019\u00e9loignaient un \u00e0 un
\n\ufeffPour monter vers d\u2019invisibles zones !<\/p>\n
\u00d4 soleil, engourdi par les senteurs du thym,
\nParfums de poivre et d\u2019huile \u00e9pandus sur la plaine,
\nRochers blancs, \u00e9vent\u00e9s, o\u00f9, dans l\u2019air argentin,
\nOn croit voir, se gorgeant des flots du ciel latin,
\n\ufeffLes rapides Victoires d\u2019Ath\u00e8nes !<\/p>\n
Soir tortur\u00e9 d\u2019amour et de pesants tourments,
\nGrands songes accabl\u00e9s des roseaux d\u2019Aigues-Mortes,
\nMusicale torpeur o\u00f9 volent des flamants,
\nCouleur du soir divin, qui promets et qui ment,
\n\ufeffC\u2019est ta d\u00e9tresse qui me transporte !<\/p>\n
Ah ! les amants unis, qui dorment, oubli\u00e9s,
\nDans les doux Alyscamps berc\u00e9s du clair de lune,
\nConnaissent, sous le vent l\u00e9ger des peupliers,
\nLe bonheur de languir, assouvis et li\u00e9s,
\n\ufeffDans la m\u00eame amoureuse infortune ;<\/p>\n
Mais les corps des vivants, aspir\u00e9s par l\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9,
\nSont des sanglots secrets que tout l\u2019azur \u00e9lance.
\nJe songeais sans parler, lointaine \u00e0 vos c\u00f4t\u00e9s ;
\nQui jamais avouera l\u2019\u00e2pre infid\u00e9lit\u00e9
\n\ufeffD\u2019un c\u0153ur sensible dans le silence !\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":[274],"poems-book":[594],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[611],"class_list":["post-13098","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-274","poems-book-les-vivants-et-les-morts","poete-anna-de-noailles"],"yoast_head":"\n