In vain, from the torments of absence, 
I hoped to charm the rigour 
I find, far from Hortense,
Only worries, only languor.

In vain of the most beautiful dawn,
The sweet radiance shines in my eyes;
Far from the beauty we adore,
We see no happy days.

To the flowers that the zephyr caresses,
If I find some charms,
Soon I say with sadness,
Hortense will not see them. 

Then blooms the sweetest charms
Only exciting my regrets,
Nd worries abd fears
Turn roses into cypresses.