Des cygnes noirs sur les marais salants à Ars en Ré

THE BLACK SWAN

The sun has fallen and it lies in blood.
The moon is weaving bandages of gold.
O black swan, where, oh, where is my lover gone?
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown,
And my lamp is lost, and my lamp is lost.

With silver needles and with silver thread,
The stars stitch a shroud for the dying sun.
O black swan, where, oh, where has my lover gone?
I had given him a kiss of fire,
And a golden ring, and a golden ring.

Don’t you hear your lover moan?
Eyes of glass and feet of stone,
Shells for teeth and weeds for tongue,
Deep, deep, down in the river’s bed,
He’s looking for the ring.
Eyes wide open, never asleep,
He’s looking for the ring, looking for the ring.

The spools unravel and the needles break,
The sun is buried and the stars weep.
O black wave, O black wave, take me away with you.
I will share with you my golden hair,
And my bridal crown, and my bridal crown.

Oh, take me down with you
Take me down to my wand’ring lover
With my child unborn, with my child unborn.

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