Memory of France

Together with me recall: the sky of Paris,

that giant autumn crocus...

We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth:

they were blue and they opened up in the water.

It began to rain in our room,

and our neighbour came in. Monsieur Le Songe, a lean little man.

We played cards, I lost the irises of my eyes;

you lent me your hair, I lost it, he struck us down.

He left by the door, the rain followed him out.

We were dead and were able to breathe.