Je ne t'écrirai plus

Under a blue fold I used to send you, the tenderness of Bernard Dimey, You thought it was pretty, you never understood a thing, I sent you songs from Brel, the ones that hit where the heart breaks, I thought they might, maybe, make a tree grow in the desert. I sent you dried flowers, lavender and pansies, There is no happy love, said Aragon in love, I wrote everything without shame, I bared my heart, I write to you one last time, this is my last song for you...

I won't write to you anymore, I don't need to, I won't write to you anymore, now everything is fine, I won't write to you anymore, calm has returned, the storm has stopped, I'm done loving you. (2 times) I copied poems for you, stolen from that old Hugo madman, He who knew how to say I love you, without ever looking foolish, I used Apollinaire, and Rimbaud and Verlaine, That strange and penetrating dream, I too, have often had it. {Refrain:}