L’heure Exquise
Reynald Hahn
The Exquisite Hour
The white moon
Shines in the woods
From each branch
A voice emerges
Under the foliage
Oh beloved
The pond reflects
Deep mirror
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind weeps
Let's dream, it's the hour
A vast and tender
Calm
Seems to descend
From the sky
That the star irises
It's the exquisite hour
