ioan albu

… et rien ne me dit que demain je serai vivant et rien ne me dit que je ne suis pas déjà mort mais demain tout sera comme d’habitude métro, boulot, dodo - ségolène et sarko - 20 minutes,

I’ll take the road to the nearest town to the next whiskey bar to the next saloon with dancing humans and I’ll watch the landscape disappearing like an aquarelle washed by the rain blue mountains

I remember the old carrousel From this old mining town And the gipsy woman that gave herself to me Only because I was down I remember still very well the feel Of her invisible body of

It is too god damn freezing And I am too god damn yellow to get out I’d rather lay here under my piano With this pile of books under my ass Hating Suit yourself, he said with a wicked

Sur ce pont dévasté, dans les nuits de Noël J’ai vu un cortège blasé et triste - Il y avait des carrousels et des chansons d’artistes En sonnant dans la nuit paralysée par le gel Sur les ponts

entre nous se trouvent toutes les autoroutes où les gens ont des accidents mortels en cherchant leurs amours entre nous il y a une chaîne de cadavres qui traînent invisibles, arrêtés

It seemed to me I’ve seen her before The cemetery looked different with her, like a french paysage All the autumnal scents were broken Wooden fences tracks lost between the graves I was again

I stand near a broken fence And the wind blows with leaves, wet – I am uglier, I am hollow, The cold begins to make the bottle sweat On the street leaned downway There’s an autumn like an old

At evening, through windows, a violet coppery cloud On routes, the same hour, crouches an ironly rope And coincidences on a singular gamut and loud Today I fear again ... and I believe, and I

Here lay I A solitaire laugh with despair and always cry With my aspect It paid to die For my, o, my I seemed suspect

It’s autumn, it’s sough, it’s sleep The trees, on the street are all sobbing It’s coughing, it’s mourning, it’s void It’s cold and it’s

There are dead men in town, my love I came here to let you know, because On the catafalque in town, in the heat Slowly, the corpses decompose The living move, but also decomposed Their

Whether experiencing pedestrian filth Or the sublime reversed depth of the beauty I find myself always – a dead man on duty – Wondering amongst you in silence and stealth There’s always a

both autumn and winter are jointly descending it rains and it\'s snowing - it snows and it\'s raining the night also falls so dirty and hollow and children from school return sick and