Lost children's street

Madam' Death  set down her hourglass ,

somewhere on lost children's street .

 A body, arms oustretched  ,

seemed uterly astonished  to wake up 

in the void-open eyes of nothingness,

and the vibrant flight of a verdant fairy 

with wings of sin, thief of venomous kisses...

Beneath the newbridge ,flow the troubled waters 

of yesteryear ...

  Companion ,at dawn's pale verge ,

the joyful bugle  will sound  calling you to duty ! 

You will  rot under a winterly clad of earth 

where the nettle of all  forgetfulness flourish...

  At vespers Lucifer will don the priest's robe 

in the square of long bones ,

  where the grass of the martyrs blossoms...

 Tomorrow the war  is welcome !

  Satan will wear the funeral outfit of the carabiniere

to muzzle the poet's fevered nonsense ! 

 Gentle troubadour  of the old Paris ,

you won't make lover's dance anymore 

to the weary gasp of your music box ...

    Your name engraved on the memorial .

  Street of the lost children ,

the midnight girls have come back 

to sell their liquorice  embraces 

  The war is over .

 The serpent has put its president 's suit .

  street of the found children ,

Madam death  is depressive  and no longer seductive .

 She feels nostalgic for the murky waters ,

now holidaying  to the sands of Normandy ...