I met the tired gaze of a lost princess
in the last days of november .
Princess on steps of a palace
inhabited by ghosts of the past .
Dreams sailing through the sewers
with rats as stewards .
You,november girl, your old tub
is called nowhere,but lust of the eyes...
Diva so pretty in this gutter !
Girl of a thousand life in one scene....
Tending to the blind the dead branches
of your fingers...
The good Santa passed by without seeing you,
a big Havana and a fruity Armagnac
waiting for him in front of the fireplace
in some neighborhood
where the little prince don\'t look tired ...
I was too much in a hurry to stop ,
but hearing the castaways mute mayday,
spring is always so far away...
And the Starbuck opposite won\'t shed
a tear of coffee in your empty despair...
Late november the sun\'s kiss is cold,
you\'re like an ice princess
sitting on the station steps
where travel doesn\'t await you...
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So please,friend, if you recognize
a lost street princess, put a few pennies
in her empty mug or a drop of coffee.
God won\'t give it back to you ,
but you \'ll be entitled to the spark of a look !