L'absent
Gilbert Becaud
The Absent One
How heavy is the absence of the friend,The friend who came to this table every eveningAnd who will come no more, death is miserable,Stabbing the heart and tearing you apart.He had said one day: 'When I departFor distant lands beyond the earth,You will not cry, you will raise your glassesAnd you will drink to my eternity.'In the hollow of my nights, however, I would likeTo drink to his memory to remain faithful to him,But I have too much sorrow and his voice calling meIs like a nail piercing the palm of my hand.So I stay there at the edge of my past,Silent and defeated, while his voice passes byAnd I listen to life settling in its place,His place which still remains abandoned.The everyday life with its tiny joysWants to fill the void of absence at all costsBut it will not be able to, with its tricks,Take my friend from me for a second time.How heavy is the absence of the friend.How heavy is the absence of the friend!
