Searching in the night for the springs of Rhone
the asphalt embraces the stone like a snake.
"It is the only way"
said to me William Tell
at the gas station of Saint Alpine.
And when mountains stood up all around,
when we were surrounded by dark forests
and the dawn seemed to be totally lost,
you showed me your body under the starlight.
Fire and sweat gushed
from the springs of desire.
Signals of oblivion
from the wells of fear.
Love is a disease of the mind.
It gives a touch to illusions.
It makes bodies shiver.
It makes dreams bleed.
And loneliness to creak the stairs at midnight
and terrorise us.
Pledge your eyes to the lake of Geneva,
your laughter to the fireworks.
When your nights become endless
you will have me to remember.