The sweeper

For fear of disappointing

And not to see you anymore,

I preferred to sit down

Alone in the dark

For fear of no longer believing

And to no longer believe

In this life tonight,

I broke your mirror



From doubts to despair,

From misfortune to setback,

I only have my faults left

To offer to your glory

From horrors to nightmares,

I lead my despair

Who nevertheless shouted “beware!”

It's already too late..."

It is a rare thing

In the land of the Cathars;

I passed her, laughing,

Naked, at the back of a train station

Haggard old leprechaun

To the strange look,

Manager of the death houses,

To him I must fall

I'm coming, you sneaky lucky guy,

I come, you odious bastard,

Finished your grimoire,

There lay my memory

Because finally, in this fair,

This cruel story,

I chopped my hope

In a rolling gray