Every spring ...
I\'m on my way to Trianon ,
to taste the sweetness of a season ...
Marquise ,my gracious dame ,
may I take your hand
to express my flame
in this kingdom of sand ?
A morning ...
Trianon,such a pretty lie !
All was only illusion ,
powered heads of unreason,
on the lip ,just fancy butterfly ...
I climbed the steps of the scaffold,
marquise,body and soul,destiny\'s cold...
Poor heads,blood ransom...
Every spring ,
Traveller from another dimension,
I\'ll return to Trianon ,
cherry trees just coming into blossom...
A morning ...
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Paris may 1792