Les moulins de mon cœur [English translation]

Like a stone thrown into

the quick waters of a stream

leaving a thousand ripples

as it sinks to the bottom1,

like a moon carousel

and its star horses,

like a ring of Saturn,

a carnival balloon,

like the rampart the hours

keep walking ceaselessly,

the trip around the world

of a blooming sunflower,

you spin with your name

all the mills of my heart.

Like a tangle of wool

in the hands of a child

or the words of a tune

caught in the wind's harps,

like a snowstorm,

like a flock of seagulls

over Norway forests,

over rolling ocean waves,

like the rampart the hours

keep walking ceaselessly,

the trip around the world

of a blooming sunflower,

you spin with your name

all the mills of my heart.

This day, near the spring,

God knows what you said to me,

but summer reached its end,

the bird fell out of its nest,

and already our footsteps

are fading from the sand.

And I sit alone at the table

on which my fingers drum,

like a crying tambourine

under the raindrops,

like the songs that die

as soon as they're forgotten.

And the autumn leaves

meet skies less blue,

and your absence turns them

the color of your hair.

A stone thrown into

the quick waters of a stream

leaving a thousand ripples

as it sinks to the bottom.

In the winds of the four seasons

you spin with your name

all the mills of my heart.

1. the French just says "leaves a thousand ripples behind", but I lenghtened it for singability

• Artist:Frida Boccara