It's true,
Winter lasts much too long.
It's true
without you
the snow, the frost
the gusts of wind
in the heart of April
drag on.
The months stretch,
slow down,
until the deepest ennui is reached.
Ennui:
that's when all cats are grey!*
Without you, all the colours fade
into a little speck of slightly-dirty dust.
How to rediscover the time of a dance,
all the cliches of a romance?
And how to dare to make "love"-
-"love"-
rhyme with "last resort"?
And if it's not for tomorrow,
well, I'll wait!
And if it's not for tomorrow
what does it matter if I wait for
the day after
a thousand years
a shard of glass,
a thousand tears,
a sunny spell.**
And yet, it only takes a glance,
brilliant, brilliant star of an evening.
Like a sailor left on the sand
A siren left me stranded.
It's time to hoist the sail,
around the cape,
of a dangerous isle.
. . .And if it's not for tomorrow
I will wait!
And if it's not for tomorrow,
what does it matter if I wait
for the day after!
And if it's not for tonorrow
Then I'll wait for the day after!
A thousand tears,
A rain of dreams,
A rainbow
In a thousand years. . .
Oh mercy, Mercy, I'm so scared,
Just a smile.
A thousand years. . .
Further south,
An isle. . .
The sunny spell
of a thousand years.