(Translated by Edward Ramos from the French of Hersart de la Villemarque)
I
When the sun sets, when the sea snores, I sing upon the sill of my door.
When I was young, I used to sing; and I still sing who am grown old.
I sing of the night, of the day, and none the less I am discontent.
If my head is low, if I am discontented, it is not without cause.
It is not that I am afraid; I am not afraid to be killed.
It is not that I am afraid; I have lived long enough.
When one does not look for me, I am found; and when one looks for me, he finds me not.
Little import that which advenes: that which ought to be will be.