The woman in my bed just here
Has not been twenty for so long..
Her two eyes ringed
by the long years
by all the loves
from day to day,
Her mouth worn out
by the kisses
too often yet
too badly given..
Her skin so wan,
under the makeup,
more pallid than
a moonbeam ring.
The woman who is in my bed
has not been twenty for so long..
Her breasts, heavy
with too many loves,
no longer bear
the name of charms..
Body wearied,
too much fondled au
too often, but
too badly loved..
And her bent back
Seems to carry
all the memories
she had to flee...
The woman who is in my bed
has not been twenty for so long...
No, don't you laugh,
Don't even touch
her, keep your tears
and all your gibe,
For, when the night
joins us again,
her body, hands,
mingle with mine
and it's her heart,
covered with tears,
covered with wounds
that reassures
me.