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Poem

How beautiful and discreet, this port, at night,
When you listen to fado, come that voice, Misia
It becomes deep and mysterious, sonorous,
Its numerous lights are warm as wool.

How enchanting this port, at night, o night
Between the sea and the starry sky that sleeps,
Its illiterate cranes are so stupid, yes,
Yet they really know the pain of the world,

How beautiful, so quiet on the horizon, this port,
When listening to fado, O Misia, my queen,
We want to love you like Lisbon or Porto, now
I understand Rimbaud abandoning poetry.



Qu’il est beau et discret, ce port, la nuit,
Quand vous écoutez du fado, cette voix, Misia
Il devient profond et mystérieux, sonore,
Ses lumières sont chaudes comme la laine.

Qu’il est enchanteur ce port, la nuit, O nuit
Entre la mer et le ciel étoilé qui dort,
Ses grues analphabètes sont si bêtes, oui,
Elles savent pourtant la douleur du monde,

Qu’il est beau, si calme sur l’horizon, ce port,
Quand on écoute du fado, O Misia, ma reine,
On veut t’aimer comme Lisbonne ou Porto, Enfin,
Je comprends Rimbaud qui abandonne la poésie.

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