The Seine's Lover

Bon c'est en anglais pour qui veut se faire chier à capter. Mais bon... Enfin voilà, j'l'ai fait y a qques mois, et je l'aimais bcp donc j'ai décidé de le mettre ici. Je l'ai mis dans Nature mais en fait si on regarde bien ca n'a pas grand chose avoir avec la Nature. C'est un poème allégorique donc...

The Seine’s lover

I awake by the water, the cold morning sun
Awakens Nature’s daughter, who rises anon
She blinks then stirs to the side, dresses in the light
The old prince Winter’s Sun’s bride, beautiful sight

The last of autumn’s leaves fall to be her crown
And so ready for the ball, she runs down the town
Under the bridge of the Pecq, and Vesinet’s streams
Never forgetting to peck the trees still in dreams

She dances whilst the birds chirp and young children sing
Light-footed, not to disturb, the oldmen fishing
Under the eye of her love, boats dare caress her
Jealous, he hides high above, making earth darker

Once she arrives in Paris, the day is half done
So not a dance will she miss, ‘till the ver’ last one
She then joins her love to bed, the broken purity
Of the flowers she has shed, flies to the sanctuary

Who has not uncovered their nuptial act?
The sun will set, blue and red, celestial prairie
And then as he doses off, she tiptoes away
Naked once again, a cough, caught th’fever of may

Then she comes to embrace her; a warm, heavy coat
A dark coat made out of fur, night and day quite remote
A coat the colour of coal, one couldn’t distinguish
The soil from the water’s soul. Aware are the fish.

Presents, presents, gifts of Night, Diamonds and jewels?
No, but false truth and cold light. Enough for fuels
The curtain of the willows, ivy locks the room,
Mother’s tears in the sallows, ladies of Doom

As the moon waxed and waned, th’water rose and fell
Her breeze in the river digged, going down to hell
Leaving shivers down her spine, waves of touch
Whispers “You’re forever mine”, or others of such

An artwork they’ll make too, a fog of silver,
Quilt of mist, of morning dew, ‘till dawn keeps them s’cure
And Nature, hides the evil of her young daughter
With the green flowers who kill the mist of silver

I watch this seduction by Night, a star falling
Does pleasure bring damnation? The Seine is now dying
May fever, man’s affliction. It is now too late.
Here, will there be peremption? A shoal of sick fate.

One day, the sun’ll meet the moon, and She will then speak
Can purification simply be hiding behind corruption?

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