  The salmon-trout drifts in the stream, The soul of the salmon-trout floats over the stream Like a little wafer of light. The salmon moves in the sun-shot, bright shallow sea.... As light as the shadow of the fish that falls through the water, She came into the large room by the stair, Yawning a little she came with the sleep still upon her. “I am just from bed. The sleep is still in my eyes. “Come. I have had a long dream.” And I: “That wood? And two springs have passed us.” “Not so far, no, not so far now, There is a place—but no one else knows it— A field in a valley.... Qu’ieu sui avinen, Ieu lo sai.” She must speak of the time Of Arnaut de Mareuil, I thought, “qu’ieu sui avinen.” Light as the shadow of the fish That falls through the pale green water. LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED. |
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