A love-song sung in French
is most heartbreaking of all,
but all I have are these words
they will have to do.
‘...a demain’ she said. I felt no sorrow
I kissed her again lived thinking of tomorrow.
That was yesterday or yesterday, now
I don’t know what to do. All the colours of my heart
and the touches of her blue burnt eyes,
those yesterdays took from me.
I thought I saw her from a bus that took me far away.
She did not wave,
or smile that day, no,
she did not smile that first smile that gave my heart new rhyme.
Sometimes I see her in that mirror standing by my side
and she talks to me,
yes, she talks to me, ‘a demain’
she says though tomorrow is mine alone.
I left flowers there beside her stone
as rain kissed softly on the land
I told her ‘till tomorrow’, and it seemed as if I smiled
recalling that tomorrow was never far away.