La petite mort [English translation]

In the time of staggered breathing

Late on a summer evening

The angels departed earlier

And their faces stained in white

I think it is too late

To confess my pain

To my dying heart

And my memories stained in white

If I am lost, know that I will be yours

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

Because if I am lost

It is only to remain yours

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

The rain flows on my temples

The lightning sings your descent

Snuggled against my life

Your laugh resounds and then it flees

I think it is too late

To confess my pain

My heart is no longer like it was before

Because it softly falls asleep