We will meet again in the sweetness
of this afterlife .
I would cease to be this vagabond
with silver stirrups.
This knight with no destination
other than vain seduction .
We will meet again as if love
were that first time ...
On a piano from nowhere
I will improvise a few variations of rain
that will scatter over feelings
in a city born of imagination .
Taking your hand ,we \'ll walk
along these well -known inspirations
populated by the faces of moments
long past ...
Carefree like children who do not
yet know grown-up games ...
This clock turning in the bowels of time ,
mocks,inventing happiness
without making us understand
the meaning of waiting ...
In these prisons of Saturn we grope around,
in search of our reflection and a roof
in the clouds ...
Who id the prisoner ?
Where is the jailer ?
Sheet music without a treble key ...
The dead interpret the world out of habbit
and the living immersed on quiet unease
laugh at stories of spirits ,
Picking some flowers of vanities ...
We will find ourselves ,
stripped of flesh
and clothed in void .
Drinking disembodied desire
the cup of bitterness,
Our fingers frozen to the reality
of some solar winds ,
cosmic melody ,deep intensity ...
At the bar of the nothingness
I will wait for you .
At the rendezvous of a forgotten dimension,
unfaithful,you will rejoin me .
Maybe next year in Marienbad
or die in Venice ...
White lady on the chessboard ,
hopeless lover of a black pawn
spinning in the prisons of Saturn...
We will meet again ,where death and madness
embrace ,appeal and repel each other...