My hair flies away under the assaults of the wind
The evening moans with liters of fog
I smoke cigarette after cigarette under the awning
My days are wet, the tears make my blush drip

I looked at the burning horizon, the mist as far as the eye could see
Spreads around our quiet faces
There was no one, not a shadow in the street
I stepped out onto the stoop, walked downtown

Your face filled every drawer of my consciousness
I was a failed writer, a hallucinated poet
You were calculating the distance between our two cities, science
Had never seemed so poetic to me

I looked for your silhouette, your laughter, in all the capitals,
I wrote your name on the banks of the rivers
I dreamed of asking for your hand in the middle of a forest
I dreamed so much of you that my words turned to tears

Now the birds cry, the promises remain alone,
On the boulevard, two absentees, the rain has stopped
And my heart beats wildly: if I died tonight
Not to have known you, never to have met you