comfort me this evening.
I am dying of love;
I need you to live until the day.
Should someone reproach me
For having towards you the heart harder than rock
To have left you, mistress,
To follow the Queen,
Beggar I do not know what
That the vulgar call a largesse ?
Rather perish honor, shortness, and wealth,
That for goodness I never leave you,
Often it only takes a tear of you, God listens to me.
The mouth is silent
To hear the heart speak.
Nothing makes us so great than a great pain.
But, to be attained, do not believe, O poet.
To deceive his mistress, or overcome its weakness.
Succumb, or fight incessantly.
God speaks, we have to answer.
Forgive me if I always shake to have a weakness.
Do you love me again ?
I learned that you love another woman,And I come, desperate, to bid you farewell.
One last time,
Pour the same wine into our two cups.
One last time, sing the song
Which speaks of a dead bird under the snow.
Then I will embark on the Hudson River
Whose waters divide
To flow east and west.
Why do you cry, Belle. Who hurt you?
You may marry a man with a faithful heart,
A man who will repeat to you sincerely:
“I only have eyes for you…”
Beyond the orchard which borders the bank,
the vaporous chariot of the queen of shadows rises and whitens the horizon.
Our boat slips on the quiet river
While my friend sleeps, her hand in the water.
A butterfly slipped on her shoulder, beat her wings and then flew
For a longtime, I watched him.
It was heading towards the Cleveland mountain.
Was it a butterfly, or the dream that my friend had just made?