You are in luck my romantic Frenchman… Here is my wife-to-be’s favorite old French love poem. It was written by Paul Valery (1871-1945). I’m told it is a classic.
Les Pas
Tes pas, enfants de mon silence,
Saintement, lentement places,
Ver le lit de ma vigilance
Procedent muets et glaces.
Personne pure, ombre divine,
Qu’ils sont doux, tes pas retenus!
Dieux!.. tous les dons que je devine
Viennent a moi sur ces pieds nus!
Si, de tes levres avancees,
Tu prepares pour l’apaiser,
A l’habitant de mes pensees
La nourriture d’un baiser,
Ne hate pas cet acte tendre,
Douceur d’etre et de n’etre pas,
Car j’ai vecu de vous attendre,
Et mon coeur n’etait que vos pas.
Translation:
Your footsteps, the children of my silence, with slow and saintly pace, proceed mute and frozen towards the bed of my wakefulness.
Pure being, divine shadow, how soft are your discreet steps! Gods! … all the gifts I can imagine come to me on those naked feet!
If, with your advancing lips you are preparing to appease the inhabitant of my thoughts with the sustenance of a kiss, do not hasten that tender act, sweet peace of being and not being, for I have lived in expectation of you, and my heartbeat was your footsteps alone.
She should love this, I’m woozy just writing it. 