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| A peu près album cover, photograph by Marta Bevacqua and artwork by Frank Loriou |
This is another translation of a creative song by the French singer-songwriter Pomme. It compares the person she loves to a city. You can hear it here.
My love is a city
My love, a city I criss-cross, where my mind lingers
A model citadel, a model citadel
My love is a city where I like to let my eyes dwell
My love, a city, the tranquil capital my lips bespell
A model citadel, a model citadel.
No other place, no other can enlace me so
No other place than this love
No other place, no other can enlace me so
No other than this love that I know.
I grew tired of new cities where I would just pass through
But this mysterious one I love
It’s the love I dream of anew
An ancient beauty to construe, an ancient beauty to construe
I rush until I hear her voice cry out
I run until my eyes hurt, my ears shout
I rush until I hear her voice, I run
Time is still out, in this town I am about, in this town I am about
No other place, no other can enlace me so
No other place than this love
No other place, no other can enlace me so
No other than this love I know.
At her fountains I drink, I drink
I drink so much I am intoxicated
At her water features I drink, I drink
More and more so that I am inebriated
And I feel myself reanimated, and I feel myself resuscitated
My love is a city I love
I love
