The Mirabeau Bridge
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
. . . . . . . .And all our loves
. . . .Why does it make so plain
That any joy must always follow pain
. . . . . . . .Let the night come the hour sound clear
. . . . . . . .The days all pass I’m still here
Our hands intertwined let’s stay face to face
. . . . . . . .While far below
. . . .The bridge of our arms strays
The languid wave of each endless gaze
. . . . . . . .Let the night come the hour sound clear
. . . . . . . .The days all pass I’m still here
Our love drifts away like these waters flow
. . . . . . . .Love drifts away
. . . .And our lives are so slow
With Hope more violent than we could know
. . . . . . . .Let the night come the hour sound clear
. . . . . . . .The days all pass I’m still here.
The days and weeks pass in a ceaseless train
. . . . . . . .But no past time
. . . .Or past love comes again
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
. . . . . . . .Let the night come the hour sound clear
. . . . . . . .The days all pass I’m still here.
by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)
Translation by John Irons
Photo via Wikipedia
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