L'enfant prodigue: L’année, envain chasse l’année... Azaël! Azaël!

In vain one year passes another year!
With each season brought back, their games and
Their pastimes sadden me despite myself:
They reopen my wound and my sorrow grows…
I am longing for a solitary shore…
Involuntary pain!
Unnecessary efforts!
Lia cries always the child she no longer has!…
Azaël! Azaël! Why did you leave me?...
In my maternal heart, your image has remained.
Azaël! Azaël! Why did you leave me?…
However, the evenings were mild,
In the plain full of elm trees,
When, under the weight of the harvest,
The big ruddy oxen were brought back.
When the task was finished,
Children, old men, and servants,
Field workers or pastors,
Praised the blessed hand of God.
So the days followed the days
And in the pious family,
The young man and the girl
Exchanged their chaste loves.
Others do not feel the weight of the old age;
Happy among their children,
They see the years go by
Without regret and without sadness…
The passing of time is heavy
For the disconsolate hearts!...
Azaël! Why did you leave me?...