Moïra Gynt [English translation]

Up high, on your heels of ice

You dance and you slip away

You make your own way

In your disgusting jacket

Hands outstretched, without answers

Dug into, without hopes, in silence*

Of a tomorrow which could say "I love you"

And sometimes even tell you that everything's alright

Moira Gynt, in your battered sneakers,

Your ready-to-wear clothes,

It's in my heart that I'd like to carry you

Moira Gynt, the wind in your undone hair,

You told yourself to fake your way to somewhere else

I imagine your lips, grey with rancor at not being able to brush against mine

I dream that you're no longer afraid, and that we discover together the streets of Siena

I hope to share your tender melancholy

My days are made of marble, much darker and sadder than my nights

The deaf, pouring rain ruins this scene

I throw myself into the scene, I throw myself into the scene

Metaphor of a leash**, to keep track of who's coming and going, just passing by

Because yes, love is a parade of challenges, we break our faces*** without much difficulty

Moira Gynt, in your battered sneakers,

Your ready-to-wear clothes,

It's in my heart that I'd like to carry you

Moira Gynt, the wind in your undone hair,

You got out, broken, soaring,

And I won't wait, I'm taking the holy orders

• Artist:Tim Dup