Il me revient

It comes back to me
It comes back to me
Images come back
A village
My village
It comes back to me
I don’t know
Like a dream
This story
And there in the distance
Approaches
My childhood
My childhood
It was, I think, a Sunday
It was, I think, in November
Who cares
But I see the factory

Yeah, the factory
Takes shape
Emerges
From the picture book
A steel gray sky
A sense of dread
And heavy footsteps
Dragging along
And the shadows
That move forward
It was, I’m sure
A Sunday
It was, I’m sure
In November
And an image stands out
A face
Your face
Where were you
On that road
Like
A defeated army?

And everything becomes transparent
And you become an absence
Everything comes back
To me
The sky
And November
And the story
And the steps
That draw near
And advance
In rhythm
You, where are you?
I’m looking for you
Where are you?
I’m looking for you
You, my past
My memory
You
Brought back from history
That was, I’m sure
A Sunday
In November
Your face
You

On that road
Frozen
And the shadows
That hit you
And carry you away
Images come back to me
This village
Your face
You
Alone on that road
Like a defeated army
And the steps
That approach
In rhythm
In rhythm