Tomorrow, at dawn, at a time when the countryside whitens, I will leave. You see, I know not expect. I will go through the forest, go through the mountains. I can not stay away from you any longer. I will walk with his eyes fixed on my thoughts, seeing nothing outside, without hearing any noise, only, unknown, back bent, his hands crossed, Sad, and the day will be like for me at night. I do not look at the golden evening falls, Nor the sails off down towards Harfleur, And when I arrive, I will put on your grave, A bouquet of green holly and heather in bloom.

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