He lets me listen, when he moves me,
Words are not like other
He takes me, from under my
He plants me, in a distant
And the black rain in my
Falls in torrents,
He carries me with him, he carries
To an evening of perfumed
And I am like a child in his
Like a feather carried by the
He carries for me seven moons in his handsand a bundle of
He gives me sun, he gives me summerand flocks of
He tells me that I am his
And that I am equal to thousands of
And that I am treasure, and that I ammore beautiful than he has seen of
He tells me things that make me dizzythat make me forget the dance and the
Words…which overturn my historywhich make me a woman…in
He builds castles of fantasieswhich I live in…for seconds…And I return…I return to my
Nothing with me…Nothing with me…except words
