La petite mort [English translation]

A moment like a breath cut short

By a late summer evening

The angels left before

And their faces stained with white

I think that it is too late

To tell you that it hurts

My dying heart

And my memories stained with white

If you can lose me, know that I will be yours

And in the crook of his arms, death will cradle us

Because if you can lose me,

it is only to remain yours

And in the crook of his arms, death will cradle us

The rain runs down my temples

The lightening sings your descent

Huddled against my life

Your laugh sounds out and then dies away

I think that it is too late

To tell you that it hurts

My heart isn't as it was before

As it falls asleep so gently