La petite mort [English translation]

In the space of a breath

On a late summer evening

The angels left first

And their faces stained white

I think that it's too late

To admit to you that I'm hurting

With my dying heart

And my memories stained white

If they lose me, know that I'll be yours,

And nestled in his arms, death will cradle us

Because if they lose me,

It's only so I remain yours

And nestled in his arms, death with cradle us

The rain runs down my temples

The lightning sings your descent

Huddled up against my life

Your laugh resonates and then flees

I think that it's too late

To admit to you that I'm hurting

My heart is not like it was before

Because it softly falls asleep