Chandelle : Candle

 

She, she comes straight from a watercolor,

With her laces from the past.

She is beautiful as a way of the cross.

She, the children call her Candle,

Because she trembles at each step,

But the prisoner is me.

 

If she is afraid, if she is cold, I am too.

Winter is made for our bodies to squeeze up,

And they squeeze up without noise.

If she is afraid, if she is cold, I am too.

 

I am the first to call her,

The first to open his arms for her,

As if at home she did not exist.

 

And from her I receive some news

By the birds she sends me,

I am far, but don’t worry.

 

If she is afraid, if she is cold, I am too.

Winter is made for our bodies to squeeze up,

And they squeeze up without noise.

If she is afraid, if she is cold, I am too.

 

But each of her silence is deadly,

Each of her words carries me in heaven,

Hey, as far as you are,

If you hear me, stop.

 

You who run so that your body is transparent,

You who cry that life take all your time,

Hey, as far as you are,

If you hear me, stop.

Candle, it is my song for you,

My song for you.

 

But Candle, it is always Christmas Night

When she comes back to my home,

And I am not even sure that it was dark,

Between yesterday and today.