What’s love…Oh! The Ironic
Oh! Love, That gypsy wanderer
When some people talk about love,
_I don’t talk about poets, swan, and dove,
Of chimeric thoughts that hover
over a dream-catcher net, when it’s over
_But we, like ordinary people,
at wee hours, they daydream
of that day the get caught,
like a wisp on a stream,
And Of which they never talk,
and again, she never thought
But only longing sometimes, of that night
as if they were_ him a tenebrous Latin lover
and her, Ô my fair lady of one night!
He came by, singing under her balcony,
thither, hither and yon,
Knights, castle, and beyond
have they ever met. Oh! The Irony
What’s love…that thing out of reach,
Oh! That was the only way of which_
Like a thief, that robbed,you and left
with your valuables, walked away
then left you, with a broken heart alas!
He never came back, anyway
A Gentleman burglar, like The Saint,
You may thought… But no worry!
And it makes you sometimes feel lonely,
With a quantum of solace, to linger
at a simple note of sorry,
left on a table, at reach of your finger
or was it simply a hungry burglar
That had eaten your diner,
one night while you went for a walk,
and of which you never talk.
For years you lived on a whisper_
a word that he uttered to you
like to a young spouse,
the day they just wed, Whose_
she has a sailor husband,
he said to her the morning he left,
and sailed away
_ and Her, she stands at the window,
peering at things, that might peep
on the offings, Him, The only, the while, the ship,
the first sole mariner coming.
Waiting for days, like a widow
the day they’ll return to the safe harbor,
Will find her there, at the moors, like the other wives
With Anguish cutting their guts, and tore like hands cut with knives
Then, Oh Happiness
they’ll be living for a week or two
As they often do
on lobster they’ll dine,
with hot bread and wine,
On Fresh water and d’ Amour
Like always, and come toujours
and then, on left-overs, like everyone.
They go sitting there sometimes,
at the dock of the bay, wasting time.
Just having small talks, mamours and caresses,
wasting time, until the next day going at sea
Watching their hearts glowing low like embers,
Under the ashes of a bonfire, on a golden shore.
at the sole thought, of departing encore.
kissing goodbye in such no sweet sorrow
That sailing in the morning tomorrow
When the birds will be leaving the nest
I am, sitting here, like dog on the bay,
The while, the only thing, waiting for his master to return home
Do you return home someday! my love
Oh! I am too nostalgic to remembrances,
Sorry, guys, What a mess! I’m drunk of love, I have to go anyway