
(1802-1885)
Auguste Rodin, 1884, The Rijksmuseum
Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens,
I will leave. You see, I know that you are waiting for me.
I will go through the forest; I will go through the mountain.
I cannot stay away from you any longer.
I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside, without hearing any sound,
Alone, unknown, with bent back and folded hands,
Sad, and the day to me will be like the night.
I will not look at the gold of the falling evening,
Nor the sails in the distance going down to Harfleur,
And when I come, I’ll put on your grave
A bouquet of green holly and heather in flower.
Victor Hugo, from the collection “Les Contemplations” (1856)
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