However in the dark around the rose,
Drunk with the kiss of the virgin fledgling,
slowly wakes up, but too soon gone.
Flower And the sky is red intermingled
From black clouds and torn, and I dare
beg, oh beauty who hate me without cause
Because of the corner of my eye, a tear flowed:
Forgotten my pride, my tears are blood
J'égrène minutes, hours go, I wait.
My dream is always the same: the red rose
gently leans into my ear, gently
tells me that neither the time nor the wind ...
And I believe her and I always marvel.
Paris, April 2001
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