O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et, O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole! 

The moon shines bright on me
And my wife
Walking the meadow and hillside
Un oiseau sur, l'arbre qu'on voit Chante sa plainte.

Trans: A bird in the tree one hears sadly singing.

Parsifal has vanquished the Damsels, their gentle
Babble and amusing luxury, and their bent
Toward the Flesh of the virgin boy they would tempt
To love their glowing breasts and their gentle babble.

He has vanquished the Woman with heart so subtle,
Displaying her tempting arms and throat like a lily bent;
He has vanquished Hades and returned to his tent
With the heavy trophy of burnished metal

With the spear in his arms that pierced the Saviour's side.
He has healed the king and now a king, in his pride,
He has himself become - priest of the Holy Grail.

He kneels to adore in garments of golden fire
The vase where the Saviour's blood like the morning shines -
And, O, the voices of children singing in the choir!

Paul Verlaine