I made a tourniquet to the night
With the cotton of the clouds
I was on my knees, dazzled
The sun spit in my face

The landscape falls into dust,
The train sped through the countryside,
I hurt myself with the light
I think the darkness is bleeding

I held the hand of the night
As it emptied itself of its fire
The wind made me a bridge I smiled
Only the two of us were left alive

The stars decayed
In a thousand shards of glass
The ground is littered with them, the apotheosis
Will take place one day of prayer

The testament of the night in hand,
I walk in Paris lit and pale
Darkness is my fate
And the sky cries chrysanthemums