Thou fair Marseilles, who openest on the sea
Thy haughty eyes and gazest languidly,
As though naught else were worthy to behold,
And, though the winds rage, dreamest but of gold,
When Lazarus preached to thee, thou didst begin
Those eyes to close, and see the night within,
And to the fountain of l'Huveaune speeding,
The source whereof Magdaleue's tears were feeding,
Didst wash thy sins away; and in this hour
Art proud once more; but other storms may lower.
Forget not, then, amid thy revelries,
Whose tears they are that bathe thine olive-trees!
Frédéric Mistral (1830 - 1914) France
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