Wednesday, August 04, 2004

The moon, all too fair, in your russet-red hair sets a sparkling crown
The moon, all too red with glory, is spread on your poor, tattered gown
The moon, all too white, caresses the light in your world-weary eyes
Princess of the street, do allow me to greet you, my broken heart cries

Les escaliers de la butte
sont durs aux miséreux
les ailes des moulins
protègent les amoureux


Complainte De La Butte

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