In a blue envelope I was sending you Bernard Dimey's tenderness,
You thought it was pretty, you never understood anything,
I was sending you some Brel's songs, the ones that hit where the heart cracks,
I thought perhaps they could grow a tree in the middle of the desert.
I was sending you dried flowers, lavander and pansies,
There's no fortunate love, said in-love-Aragon,
I was writing everything shamelessly, I was baring my heart,
I write to you for the last time, this is my last song for you ...
[Chorus] :
I won't write to you anymore, I don't need to,
I won't write to you anymore, now everything's fine,
I won't write to you anymore, the peace is back, the storm's over,
I've ceased to love you. x2
I was copying poems out for you, that I had stolen from this old mad Hugo.
He who could say I love you, without ever looking idiot.
I was using Apollinaire, and Rimbaud and Verlaine,
This strange and penetrating dream, I also had it often.
[Chorus] x2