To walk on this earth
The head in procession
And the heart in misery
I went to the cemetery
Where we bury the fairies
The cradles of illusions
When she would have passed by

I know she loves you
Even if she didn’t come
Or even laid down
A bed of chrysanthemums
On the invented stone
That we don’t remember

You can’t blame her
Or even judge her
When you rhyme at random
It is necessary to throw the dice
Cover them with blush
Close the eyelids
Above all, bury it well

If that does not help misery
It is necessary to abandon it well
One is not a father
As one is born mother
And especially in summer
On the altar of an oath
That we never swore

What’s the use of crying
An idea, a child
If not to prove
That we tear off the wings of the fairies