Original title: "Mon rêve familier"
Text: Paul Verlaine
I often make that strange and penetrating dream
Of an unknown woman and whom I love and who loves me
And who is, everytime, not entirely the same
Nor quite another and who loves me and understands me
Because she understands me and my transparent heart
For her alone, alas!, stops being a problem.
For her alone, and the sweatineness' of my pallid forehead
Her only knows how to refresh them by crying.
Is she brown haired, blond or redhaired? I don't know.
Her name? I remember it's sweet and resonant,
Like the ones of the loved ones who life exiled.
Her gaze is alike to the gaze of the statues
And, for her voice, distant, and calm, and deep, it has
the inflexion of the dearest voice who went silent.
Julos Beaucarne's version: