Ces Matins D'été

And if by chance
You meet me
Just on a street corner
Barely moved
And if by chance
You realize
That I will be nothing more
Than a stranger
I would know how to speak
Of these stone paths
Of fireplaces
Of birds on the sea
Of unfinished symphonies
Of the four hands
Of these summer mornings

If the wind pushes us
To meet
This suspended time
And which is no more
Is it enough to slow down
Our watches
So that our lost steps
In this street
Bring us back little by little
On these stone paths
To the time of perched cats
Of games in the clearing
Of unfinished symphonies
Of the four hands
Of these summer mornings