[...] to the infinity of mystery and of destinies; such an adored one who had such a strong possession over him that nothing meant anything at all to him other than that which he could use in the service of his adoration for her, who had such a strong possession over him, and who now became so vague to him that he could no longer hold onto her, could no longer hold on even to the perfume given off by the billowing skirts of her cloak. He strained to bring her back to life, to resuscitate her by pinning her down in front of him like a collection of butterflies. And every time was more difficult. And still he had caught hold of none of the butterflies, but each time he had removed with his fingers a little of the mirage from their wings.
Ah, if some day is born this generous friend to deliver up an oppressed
woman, the incessant torments of my affrighted soul, they shall all be
forgotten in the sweet vengeance [?] my heart will find again that which
it has lost, that which I have wept over will be returned to me, when in
my open and joyful arms I may clasp this hero.
Oh, young radiant lady - forget finally your ills I am the avenger of your
dreams. [?] Ah, what ardent and tender avowals will we not see swelling my
heart. In you I see finally the object of all my wishes. Oh beloved woman
Oh woman pure and sacred if you suffer shame and constraint, if I have
suffered haughty contempt will not love avenge us of all our sufferings.
Oh such ineffable sweetness, ah what dear hopes when next to mine I feel
the beating of your heart.
[...] did not leave but this spell evaporated so quickly, fugitive nuances, brief perfume of longed for roses that wither in the water. So this window at the moment still bathed with the reflections that presaged behind the mysterious seas, where the realms at least beyond the shadows on the sea, beyond the sounds or the music, did not very tenderly deceive my eyes other than for a moment. It is the window of a solicitor's office and I notice the bulky files. Like love the evening is magical. Beautiful lovers, dethroned princes of my dreams, that the rulers by one day [...]
[...] [illegible] not capable of taking wing.
[...] no more dear. But one pleased me, the one that Tibertius begs for in
a romantic adventure that disgusted me before hearing him sing it and
which ever since has made me weep. Lord by what aesthetics have my diverse
loves sent me. My reason that formerly never deviated from the mysterious
line of beauty, and governed without losing sight of the star that guides
us to port, follows the pilotless ship [illegible] of the ship on
the opposite currents. Night comes up unconsciously, as nothingness
Tibertius, honest Tibertius who will surrender everything in a moment,
heedless of annihilation I cling desperately to you.
First fragment is from Les Regrets, Rêveries couleur du temps VII. Otherwise unidentified manuscript fragments from Les Plaisirs et les jours, NAF 16612, 263r, 265r, 265v. Due to the difficulty of the handwriting some of the interpretation is speculative.
Updated 29.05.22