Flowers of absinth (English translation)

Edinburgh watches for the storm, every window lights a waxy flame
I heard your footsteps on the soaked pebbles an amaranth flowers,
In the gardens the nettles, the moss the pink lichens — the light forgets it is winter
We had taken the train, my love, that evening our frozen hands had turned blue

We had hung on our masks the scattered voices of the unbearable Gods;
And the light to our hurried steps, this frightful light, from the too marked out paths of bewitching brightness
It was an enlightened winter. It brought us close to the heart-rending sobs of the water,
No sun came to warm our ideas, but how beautiful was the moon!

Your face laughed like a striped disc, and I thought —
How beautiful it would be to be dancing towards the abyss —
And noticing you loved me in silence, I thought of the horizon, splashed with evening
Not of that splendid sky, but of the inaccessible confines of the ocean,
I thought of a garden suspended by hope, a garden filled with yew trees

The sun ignored us, the world exploded like a shredded box
And I picked up the red, green, blue promises, and ribbons
The beach was covered with colors – like a discotheque where only dreamers would enter
Would show up to drink a glass of absinthe bicarbonated with soda

But the window of my room remained closed, and I remained motionless,
Contemplating this dream of salt, this suspended garden of hopes which could have been
My sould went agitated under the wind. I remained alone in the crowds, on an invisible rock
There was a grave at the end of the path, and the glowing sand of a soul dealers

Your voice burst upon my moist eyes. It burned like a tongue of fire my livid conscience
I would trade the sugar of this world for an hour in your sight
I hid myself to suck the blood that flowed from my ashes
And I pushed aside the curtains that were already digging our graves

Tomorrow I’ll convince the sky to leave us a little of its light
To hide our doubts, to draw from it a reflection of our souls in love,
And the ink will flow on the fresh water of tomorrow
Like a promise of absinth flowers

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