European Elegies/Spring/On the old bridge

71.ON THE OLD BRIDGE


Upon the old bridge, marred with moss
And lichens' red corrosion, here
Two whispering lovers leaned across:
    'Twas we, my dear!

He, urging tenderly his plea,
Laid all his life before her feet
And pledged her his fidelity:
    'Twas I, my sweet!

And she seemed hesitant and pale,
Trembled yet did not disapprove,
As listening to a far-off tale:
    'Twas you, my love!

On the old bridge two lovers pass
Once more to hold sweet rendez-vous.
He tells his love; she smiles: alas,
    Not, not we two!


From the French of Auguste Angellier.