Les Amours Tristes
My true love of summer, amidst nights of love, didst whisper to me.
She'd extinguish the fire of our love, unless betrothed we shall be,
Engulfed in nights of love
We betrothed were not to be!
My true love of summer, after nights of love, extinguished the fire of our love, once conceived in summer, ever naught to be three were we.
My true love of autumn amidst nights of love, poured forth the fire once conceived. Then, presently, we were ennobled to three Amidst nights of love.
Wafting clouds of origin came to be, imbroglio and winds of doubt enveloped me rained on our fire of love once free. Forever, a quietus on our three
My true love of winter in maelstroms of love didst speak softly of a child we two could conceive, during volant nights of love never would our love embellish to become three
My true love of spring, oh how fretful she would be, during nights of love in apprehension of evolving to three Fretful nights of love until apart wouldst us be
Forever apart we wouldst be.
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