I was that passerby
in the lights of the night.
Stopping at lost words square ,
not knowing what to tell you...
Scared of these magics formulas.
Say nothing to the love ,
lest you frighten it away .
Hum it like a wind and rain melody.
Evokes it in symphonic memory
and keep it in quiet melancholy .
this is my recipe,
between lips and there...
Love is always that end of summer
bathed in the glow of twilight .
When everything is over ,
the play continues in the search for oblivion...
To call love by its name is to make it lie .
It should be approached indirectly .
starting by the last page of the book...
Act as if it were one of those old aquaintance
you always meet on a miss time day
somewhere in the mist of a past winter ...
Love is expressed in three slow notes
on a solo piano perched in the clouds
and waiting for nightfall who may not come,
slipping away on a low bassoon
orchestrated with a few silences
soothing the flow of phrases ...
Wasn\'t it only a deceptive lullaby ?
Then suddenly something
seems belonging to the nostalgia
of yesterday\'s sandcastles...
Already love has vanished .
When we let our heart beat ,
believing in enchanting spells...