Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses,
O thou, my pleasure, though, all my desire,
Thou shalt recall the beauty of caresses,
The charm of evenings by the gentle fire,
Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses!
The eves illumined by the burning coal,
The balcony where veiled rose-vapor clings—
How soft your breast was then, how sweet your sould!
Ah, and we said imperishable things,
Those eves illumined by the burning coal.