Notre histoire est noble et tragique
Comme le masque d’un tyran
Nul drame hasardeux ou magique
Aucun détail indifférent
Ne rend notre amour pathétique
Et Thomas de Quincey buvant
L’opium poison doux et chaste
A sa pauvre Anne allait rêvant
Passons passons puisque tout passe
Je me retournerai souvent
Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent
Our history is noble and tragic
Like a tyrant’s glaring mask
No hazard nor magical drama
No trivial detail
Makes pathos of our love
Opium possessed de Quincey
Chaste poison drunk to Anne
He dreamed his life away
On on since all must past
I’ll frequently turn back
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies out along with the wind
Like a tyrant’s glaring mask
No hazard nor magical drama
No trivial detail
Makes pathos of our love
Opium possessed de Quincey
Chaste poison drunk to Anne
He dreamed his life away
On on since all must past
I’ll frequently turn back
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies out along with the wind
[Lou Reed: The glory of love]
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