Pale, such as we see...
Pale, such as we see in rare porcelain
The dream of an opal sea by Yuldo,
April will smile on a slender glaze of water
So sweet with the bright tone of Japaneseries.
A pale apple tree will disrobe
(In this country such adorable absurdity is allowed)
Among the delicate treasure of its beloved blossom.
Above will shine a flight of white moths
Of a hue exquisite and delicate as satin;
In the heavens will languish the roses of the morning.
Apparently written by Marcel Proust at the age of 18 on the back of an envelope sent by his father from Aix-en-Provence 9 October 1889.