L'absinthe

They drank absinthe, Like one would drink water, One was called Verlaine, The other, it was Rimbaud, To make poems, You don't drink water, You're not Verlaine, You're not Rimbaud, But when you say 'I love you', Oh my god, how beautiful it is, Much more beautiful than a poem, By Verlaine or Rimbaud, Yet how I love to hear, Again and again, The song of loves, When it rains on the city, The song of loves, When it rains in my heart, And when the soul is gray, And the violins cry, Yet, I want to hear it, Again and again, You know it intoxicates me, The song of those, Who love and die for it, And if my soul is gray, You will dry my tears, They drank absinthe, Like one drinks water, But one was Verlaine, The other was Rimbaud, To make poems, You don't drink water, Today, 'I love you', Is written in two words, Gone are the long poems, The music of words, That Verlaine got drunk on, That Rimbaud got drunk on, Because I would like to know, Those golden alcohols, that intoxicated their hearts, And drowned their pain, Oh, let me know them, Those golden alcohols, that intoxicate our hearts, And flow in our veins, And pour me some to drink, Again and again, Here I am getting drunk, I am your drunken boat, With you, I drift, And I love and die for it, The fumes of absinthe, Obscure me, I see flowers climbing, On the velvet of the curtains, What is this lament, Heavy as a sob, It is them coming back, Again and again, In the icy winter wind, Hear them dragging themselves, Verlaine's hanged men, Rimbaud's drowned ones, Whom death froze, In the dark waters of the Seine, It hurts to hear them, Again and again, Oh, may this drunken boat, Lead us adrift, Sink to the depths of the waters, And with you, I die, We drank absinthe, Like one would drink water, And I love you, I love you, Oh my god, how beautiful it is, Much more beautiful than a poem, By Verlaine or Rimbaud...