In the softness of may
you were waiting for me ,
So many years ago ...
You\'re now an old lady ,
perhaps have you one or two
grown- up children ?
You\'ve certainly forgotten me ...
How many fleeting conquests
I have made on spring mornings
in a park lost in the midst of time
and the indecisive hours
in the seduction clock ?
What happened to this little poem,
hastily wrote on a page of my notebook ?
I read your smile\'s message ,
young girl already won over ,
a little crystalline chuckle
and like a delicious fear
faced with the inescapable situation,
but just a word,a look, a desire ,
a confused season cloud passing by
and you are my inspiration ...
We both have now gray in our hair ,
do you remember this comedy ?
Some remorse and a lot of regret ...
All we have engraved on the bench
was but a travelling passion ...
This little poem scribbled in a hurry ,
faded into so many serious letter ...
But you were this gift of the present ,
chance doesn\'t exist if we want it so much ...