Avec Les Fleurs... Avec L'absinthe

With flowers, and with women

With absinthe, and with this fire

We can divert ourselves a while

Act out our part in some drama

Absinthe, on a winter evening

Lights up in green the sooty soul;

And Flowers, on the beloved

Grow fragrant before the clear fire

Later, kisses lose their charm

Having lasted several seasons;

And after mutual betrayals

We part one day without a tear

We burn letters and bouquets

And fire takes our bower;

And if sad life is salvaged

Still there is absinthe and its hiccups

The portraits are eaten by flames

Shrivelled fingers tremble

We die from sleeping long

With flowers, and with women