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Françoise Hardy

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Drowned in the mist
The lines disappear
With our tracks
In the moonless night
Shades melt
With our shadows
Tout you steam
One dream still haunts me

Nothing but a fantasy
Of you, which hides you
You who keeps silent
Did you really exist

Disappeared is the fear
Of accounts to be rendered
With the taste of ashes
Too far, beyond waiting
The state of grace
Meetings
I hear voices
Could it be you

Show your face
We have no more time
But you keep silent
Would I have invented it all
Give me a sign
The key to the enigma
What is my crime
Would you have forgotten it all

There are no more hugs
Cries, tears
Death of the soul
Just a few imprints
Of closed doors
A pain without cause

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