[“TOMORROW, DAWN . . .”]

Tomorrow, dawn, when the countryside’s almost white

I’ll depart. You see, I know you’re waiting for me.

I will go by the mountains, I’ll go by the woods.

I can’t be faraway from you anymore.

I will be walking with my eyes fixed on my thoughts,

Without looking around, without hearing a sound,

Alone and unknown, with back bent, with my hands crossed,

Sad, and the day for me will be like the night.

Then I won’t look at the golden evening, so grave

Nor at the faraway sails veering toward Harfleur

And when I do get there, I will put on your grave

A green holly bouquet and flowering heather.

3 September 1847

Victor Hugo, Les Contemplations XIV