Salle Des Pas Perdus

My name means nothing to you
You must not know
That we're neighbors
Since May
My hair is brown
My demeanor is detached
You smell my perfume
Every evening on the landing

I saw you
Living room
One evening, was it at St. Lazare?
With a stranger
Wearing a jacquard scarf
You were carrying her guitar

If I nevertheless dare
Write you this note
It's to behave yourself
It's to declare to you
My love and my sorrow
But also my regrets
For not having
Followed you on the platform

And for not having been able
Living room
To tell you what my desire was
(It's strange)
I'll be on the terrace
Of the café across the street
Tonight at a quarter to ten

Yours
Lou