La solitude

I found her in front of my door,
One evening, as I was coming home.
Everywhere, she escorts me.
She's back, she's here,
The sniffer of dead loves.
She followed me, step by step.
The wretch, may the Devil take her!
She's back, she's here
With her mournful face
With her large, dark-circled eyes,
She makes our hearts drag,
She makes our hearts weep,
She makes our hands pale
And long desolate nights.
The wretch! She would even make us
Have winter in the heart of summer.
In your sad moire dress
With your poorly combed hair,
You have the look of despair,
You're not beautiful to look at.
Go, take elsewhere
Your sad face of boredom.
I don't have a taste for unhappiness.
Go see elsewhere if I'm there!
I still want to sway my hips,
I want to get drunk on spring,
I want to have sleepless nights,
With a beating heart, heart beating.
Before the bleak hour strikes
And until my last breath,
I still want to say "I love you"
And want to die of love.
She said: "Open your door to me.
I followed you step by step.
I know your loves are dead.
I've come back, here I am.
They recited their poems to you,
Your handsome gentlemen, your beautiful children,
Your fake Rimbaud, your fake Verlaine.
Well, it's over now."
Since then, she gives me sleepless nights.
She clings to my neck,
She wraps herself around my knees.
Everywhere, she escorts me
And follows me, step by step.
She waits for me in front of my door.
She's back, she's here,
The solitude, the solitude...