At fifty leagues from the coast of Brittany, we were visited by small birds that strong winds had pushed out to sea Many took refuge in the cages of our hens, and when they had rested from their labors, they resumed their flight to the earth. We treated them with kindness. It was our last friends of France. When they left, I was loading a thousand compliments to mine, and if I could count on their loyalty, I would have attached to any of them a letter for you, but I did not dare risk it.
At the height of the Canary Islands, we had a lovely night. The sky was full of a multitude of stars, much brighter than yours. Light lights roamed the atmosphere in all directions. The sea was a bit dark animated by a cool breeze, and waves become phosphoric sparkled everywhere. Skipjack and whales by playing on the waves, it left a long trail of light, and the furrows of the ship were as inflamed. The moon rose and changed the scene. The edges of the East down to us, the smooth surface of the ocean seemed covered with a rain of money, and small waves looked like mother of pearl leaves stirred by the wind. Blowers, swaying on this beautiful sea, threw in the air sprays of water that fell in bright drops. Represent you at this moment, a group of crazy dancing to the sound of the violin. It is impossible to express the charm of the instrument spread in the vast silence and amidst these deserts. Sitting on the edge of the ship, motionless, looking at the moon, I retraced happy times. Delicious melancholy brought me in the pleasures of my youth. To the tunes of some quadrilles, which were sometimes hit my ear, my heart was referring to the endearing memories and tears fell from my eyes. I believe that this lively and penetrating sensation could also arise singular contrast to our state of anxiety with the gaiety of a ball. Besides, I often felt the same effect in the countryside when I heard, by far, the song of a romance, or sounds of any instrument. The excitement gradually won me, I dreamed, I forgot, and the night was still occupied me this rustic melody.
To cite this poem:
At the height of the Canary Islands, we had a lovely night. The sky was full of a multitude of stars, much brighter than yours. Light lights roamed the atmosphere in all directions. The sea was a bit dark animated by a cool breeze, and waves become phosphoric sparkled everywhere. Skipjack and whales by playing on the waves, it left a long trail of light, and the furrows of the ship were as inflamed. The moon rose and changed the scene. The edges of the East down to us, the smooth surface of the ocean seemed covered with a rain of money, and small waves looked like mother of pearl leaves stirred by the wind. Blowers, swaying on this beautiful sea, threw in the air sprays of water that fell in bright drops. Represent you at this moment, a group of crazy dancing to the sound of the violin. It is impossible to express the charm of the instrument spread in the vast silence and amidst these deserts. Sitting on the edge of the ship, motionless, looking at the moon, I retraced happy times. Delicious melancholy brought me in the pleasures of my youth. To the tunes of some quadrilles, which were sometimes hit my ear, my heart was referring to the endearing memories and tears fell from my eyes. I believe that this lively and penetrating sensation could also arise singular contrast to our state of anxiety with the gaiety of a ball. Besides, I often felt the same effect in the countryside when I heard, by far, the song of a romance, or sounds of any instrument. The excitement gradually won me, I dreamed, I forgot, and the night was still occupied me this rustic melody.
To cite this poem:
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