Life of the Dead
by José-Maria de Heredia
When the dark cross is planted on us,
The earth having buried us both,
Your body will bloom again in the snow of lilies
And from my flesh the bloody rose will be born.
And the divine Death that your verses sang,
In its black flight laden with silence and forgetfulness,
Will make us through the sky, rocked in a slow roll,
Towards new stars an enchanted road.
And rising in the sun, in his living home
Our two spirits will melt and drown
In the bliss of eternal flames;
While crowning the poet and the friend,
La Gloire will make us live forever among
The Shadows that the Lyre has made fraternal.