She threw the words at you In the tormented night Of dreams of horses… And of knights. She cried out to you: “Stop!” Do not come so close, Leaning at my window To steal my secrets. Of openwork lace, Of enchanting gowns… Sanctuaries, hidden doors, Lying down, trembling… Behind, she was waiting for you. And all those stolen nights Offered to your two bodies, Of caresses, of kisses Of restrained angers And of strong dialogues… Of stifled sobs. She would perhaps cry out to you That she wanted to keep you, No matter the storm She would have crossed. “Nay, my fair soubrette, I was born a knight, Our union is secret… With no future expected… I cannot promise you To always keep you… My heart is heavy with sorrow, My adored lover, I clearly feel that I love you… And would like to make you mine. But… before God I have sinned!” Still in her the desire To make love again To this man today, To enjoy these treasures… Vestige of another life. Still in her the words, Still in her the fear, The gallop of horses… And the cross upon her heart.
