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’m 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!”

“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

leu 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.