Ndéssé, or "Blues" - Leopold Senghor

Spring rained its icy water on all my unleashed desires,
My young sap gushed with the first touch of tender bark.
Now in the heart of July, I am blinder than Winter is at the pole.
My wings beat and break against the bars of the low sky
No ray of sun can pierce the soundless vault of my ennui.
What sign to recover? What keys to strike?
How can I reach the god of long-distance spears?
The royal summer of the South, down there, would arrive
Too late, yes, and in agonizing September!
In which book can I find the fervor of your reverberation?
In the pages of which book, on whose unreachable lips,
Find your delirious love?
My restless waiting wears me out. Oh, the sound of rain
On the monotonous leaves!
Just play me "Solitude," Duke, so I can cry myself to sleep.

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