Who rides so late through the night and wind
Through the mountains the meadows and the sea
To see a spark of light that illuminates the London twin?
It is I, the wearied philosopher on the way
Searching for truth blinded
For my ambition has ran astray.
The sun gestures on the other side
Drowning the sea of grass in gold
And giving me warmth in a cold summer day.
The city stands crowded with travelers
Her tower surrounded by awed gazers
And I have become no one.
You cut through the city like a blade
Just like your twin cross the sea
But smaller than you twin--sorry, not sorry.
Filled with fatigued, my mind is
I see my reflection on your face
Ragged, wrinkled: Face of a philosopher.
A horse carriage dashed right beside me
A fancy carriage, a young couple, rest assured,
Filled with laughter that I had long to experience.
I cried at the horse carriage:
"You are also no one!
Only the river speaks for your marriage."
I twirled my ragged peacoat,
A few silver coins in my pocket,
I turned towards the Eiffel Tower glistening in your eyes.
Je ne comprends rien
Qu'est-ce que c'est
"Mon petit enfant, viens, va avec moi!
De tels jeux magnifiques, je vais jouer avec toi;
Il y a beaucoup de belles fleurs sur le rivage;
Ma mère a de nombreux vêtements dorés."
Gestured by your voice,
The Eiffel Tower shining,
I took a leap of faith.
[Photos from France coming soon!]