Demain Dès L’aube par Victor Hugo


Demain, dès l’aube, à                 l’heure où blanchit la campagne,

J       e        partirai. Vois-tu,         je sais que tu m       ’       a       t       t       e       n       d       s.

J       ’       i       r       a       i par la forêt,                 j’irai par la m       o       n       t       a       g       n       e.

J       e               n       e puis demeurer         loin de toi plus l       o       n       g       t       e       m       p       s.
J       e        marcherai les yeux                 fixés sur mes p       e       n       s       é       e       s,

S       a       n       s rien voir au dehors,         sans entendre aucun b       r       u       i       t,

S       e       u       l, inconnu, le dos                 courbé, les mains c       r       o       i       s       é       e       s,

T       r       i       s       t       e, et le jour pour                 moi sera comme la n       u       i       t.
J       e        ne regarderai ni                 l’or du soir qui t       o       m       b       e,

N       i        les voiles au loin         descendant vers H       a       r       f       l       e       u       r,

E       t        quand j’arriverai,                 je mettrai sur ta t       o       m       b       e

U       n        bouquet de houx vert         et de bruyère en f       l       e       u       r.

Tomorrow at Dawn by Victor Hugo


Tomorrow, at dawn, in the hour                                                 when the countryside becomes white,

I will leave. You see,                                                 I know that you are waiting for me.

I will go by the forest,                                                 I will go by the mountain.

I cannot stay far                                                 from you any longer.
I will walk the eyes                                                                 fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside,                                                                 nor hearing any noise,

Alone, unknown, the back                                                                 curved, the hands crossed,

Sad, and the day for me                                                                 will be like the night.
I will not look at the gold                                                                                 of the evening which falls,

Nor the faraway sails                                                                                 descending towards Harfleur.

And when I arrive,                                                                                 I will put on your tomb

A green bouquet of holly and                                                                                 flowering heather.