Are you happy ? You never tell me. Maybe it's better like this. You've kissed so many others - Animals ? Which makes for sadness...

In you, I see the heroines of'
Shakespeare's tragedies.
You, unhappy lady, were
never saved by anybody.

You have grown tired of repeating
the familiar words of love !
An iron ring on a bloodless hand
is more expressive.

I love you - like a storm burst
overhead - I must confess it;
all the more fiercely because you burn
and bite, and most of all

because our secret lives take
very different paths:
seduction and dark fate
are your inspiration.

To you, my aquiline demon,
I apologise,
In a flash -
as if over a coffin - I realise
it was always too late to save you !

Even as I tremble - it may be
I am dreaming - there
remains one enchanting irony:
for you - are not he.

Beneath this caressing, plush blanket
I call up yesterday's dream.
What was it ?
Whose was the victory ?
Who was defeated ? 
Do you understand ?
I do not think so...