Jeune fille, la grâce emplit tes dix-sept ans
Jeune fille, la grâce emplit tes dix-sept ans.
Lass, at seventeen you're filled with grace.
Victor Hugo,Les Contemplations
LIVRE III: LES LUTTES ET LES RÊVES
Ton regard dit: Matin, et ton front dit: Printemps.
Il semble que ta main porte un lys invisible.
Don Juan te passer et murmure: -Impossible!-
Sois belle. Sois bénie, enfant, dans ta beauté.
La nature s'égaye à toute clarté;
Tu fais une lueur sous les arbres; la guêpe
Touche ta joue en fleur de son aile de crêpe;
La mouche à tes yeux vole ainsi qu'à des flambeaux. 
Ton souffle est un encens qui monte au ciel. Lesbos
Et les marins d'Hydra, s'ils te voyaient sans voiles,
Te prendraient pour l'Aurore aux cheveux pleins d'étoiles.
Les êtres de l'azur froncent leur pur sourcil,
Quand l'homme, spectre obscur du mal et de l'exil,
Ose approcher ton âme, aux rayons fiancée.
Sois belle. Tu te sens par l'ombre caressée,
Un ange vient baiser ton pied quand il est nu,
Et c'est ce qui te fait ton sourire ingénu. 
Lass, at seventeen you're filled with grace
Victor Hugo
translated by Geoffrey Barto
Your look proclaims the Morning, Spring is on your face.
It seems that in your hand is a lily we can't see.
Don Juan sees you pass by and murmurs: "Could she be?"
Be lovely; be blessed, child, in your beauty bright.
Nature thrills to see you, basking in your light.
You glow as beneath the trees you go; the sleek
Paper-thin wing of a wasp brushes your rosy cheek;
The moth - as to the flame - to your bright eyes must fly.
Your breath is like fine incense rising into the sky.
Lesbos and the Hydra's sailors, if they saw you there
Unveiled would take you for the Dawn with your star-filled hair.
The creatures of the azure knit their pure brow when
Dare to approach, those dark spectres of evil and exile, men
Near to your soul, betrothed to the sun's rays. So -
Be beautiful. You sense yourself caressed by a shadow,
An angel comes to kiss your foot when it is bare,
And that is what gives you your smile without care.
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