Ils se disent, ma colombe,
If they say, my dove,

Que tu rêves, morte encore,
That you dream, are dead still,

Sous la pierre d'une tombe:
Beneath the headstone of a grave:

Mais pour l'âme qui t'adore
But for the soul which adores you

Tu t'éveilles ranimée,
You awaken reanimated 

Ô pensive bien-aimée!
Oh thoughtful beloved!

Par les blanches nuits d'étoiles,
Through the sleepless nights with stars,

Dans la brise qui murmure,
In the breeze which murmurs,

Je caresse tes longs voiles,
I caress your long veils,

Ta mouvante chevelure,
Your flowing hair,

Et tes ailes demi-closes
And your wings half-closed

Qui voltigent sur les roses.
Which flutter among the roses. 

Ô délices! je respire
Oh delights! I breathe in

Tes divines tresses blondes;
Your divine tresses blonde;

Ta voix pure, cette lyre,
Your voice pure, this lyre,

Suit la vague sur les ondes,
Follows the wave across the waters, 

Et, suave, les effleure,
And, softly, them touches,

Comme un cygne qui se pleure!
Like a swan that is weeping!