So, my dear friend, you are going to leave!
Goodbye ; let fools blame your folly.
Whatever the path, whatever the future,
The only guide in this world is the hand of a friend.
Yet you leave me quite alone, I who bore me.
But whatever ? The hope of seeing you return Will
give Me, despite the disgusts of life,
That childlike courage which consists in growing old.
Only sometimes, close to your mistress,
Remember a heart which proved its nobility
Better than the golden hawk with which my helmet is armed;
Who immediately and freely loved you,
In the strength and flower of beautiful youth,
And who now sleeps forever closed.