The still, faint glow of a dying day
The painful cry of a barking dog
The disquieting silence that precedes dreams
When, the world having disappeared, one is face-to-face with oneself
The shivers where love and autumn intertwine
The darkness which engulfs our faith, our laws
This muted worry which flows in our veins
[and] Which seizes us even after the greatest of joys
Those forgotten faces coming back to haunt us
Those embraces which, in dream, one can re-live a hundred times
Those reasons that make our reasons vain*
Those things, deep inside us, which keep us awake late into the night
Those locked-up words that one was not able to say
Those persistent looks that one did not understand
Those obvious calls, those late glimmers
Those bites full of regrets which give themselves up to the night
Those dignified solitudes in the midst of silences
Those tears, so peaceful, that flow unexplained
Those passed ambitions which one thinks about again
Like a old trunk full of broken old toys
Those secreted links which join beings**
Those escaped desires which will make us fall in love
Those reasons that make our reasons vain
Those things, deep inside us, which keep us awake late into the night