The caresses of the eyes
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They bring the soul to the limits of being,
And give up secrets otherwise ineffable,
In which only the heart can appear.
The purest kisses are rude to them;
Their language is stronger than all words;
Nothing expresses itself but the immortal things
which pass moment by moment in our frivolous beings.
When the age has grown old, the mouth and the smile
Of which the fold has slowly filled with sadness,
They still retain their limpid tenderness;
Made to console, intoxicate and seduce,
They have the sweetness, the ardor and the charms!
And what other caress went through tears?