do you see me listening to greek songs
every morning while i am getting ready
for another day i'll spend without you
but with the melodies you left behind

do you imagine me singing them out loud
off-key and barefoot, like a little kid
dancing in front of the mirror
with a hairbrush in my hands

do you see me listening to greek songs
late at night, lying next to my mom
do you hear me crying in her arms
each time poso lypamai begins to play

do you ever wonder if i still listen to greek songs
all those hundreds of them in karmolipi
do you still cry when you hear ti thelis na kano
do i cross your mind when each chorus whispers Sena

do you see me searching for you all around
do you hear me whispering s'agapo
as if it's a sin i am not allowed to confess
to anyone else but you, my giorgos

like the corks from all the wine we've once shared
i have collected our memories in a glass jar
and couldn't even bear to hold it in my hands
in case i drop it by chance and it shatters apart
so instead, i left it to gather dust in the corner of my heart

with our memories that poured into our wine glasses
just like the rain that fell upon us as we kissed each other
under those streetlights where i would run into your arms
as if it were the first time i saw you turning the same corner
ever since you showed up at my door that one night in october

with a bottle in your hands you stole from work for us
later we found ourselves dancing to Strangers in the Night
at two in the morning while looking at each other's eyes
maybe love really was just a warm embracing dance away
yet for three years, you kept spinning me around every day

just like the ferris wheel you once took me by surprise
where we watched the sunset with my head on your shoulder
for a second i wished we could stay in that moment forever
with the red wine we had at Mont des Arts still on your lips
instead of the aftertaste of someone else behind each kiss

"hier encore, j'avais vingt ans"
standing still in your kitchen with red walls
watching you make coffee in that small moka ***
while whispering the songs we danced to the night before
beneath that turkish lamp your mom bought a long time ago
and your lips met mine as charles aznavour sang along
tasting of the red wine we drank all night long

"mais j'ai perdu mon temps"
while waiting for something more
holding onto that empty mug in my hands
now cold as the kitchen floor we once danced
that one night in october many years ago
yet our silhouttes are still spinning around
as you hold someone else in your arms now

à présent, j'ai vingt-deux ans
standing far away from your kitchen with red walls
watching you make coffee in that same moka ***
while whispering how you never felt this way before
beneath that turkish lamp you lit up a long time ago
you take a sip from your cup as you look into her eyes
those big coffee-brown eyes, just like mine

you used to come over wearing my favorite scent
that black bottle of jean paul gaultier you had
a quiet gesture, maybe the only hint
that you might have cared

it wrapped around me, got under my skin
soaked into my sheets like you belonged there
even after you left, i could still feel you all day
your scent softly flowing everywhere
  
i would sleep as if i were holding you
hugging the traces of you left on my blanket
until one night, you lie down beside me again
if i would ever cross your mind by chance

somehow your smell disappeared day by day
replaced by vanilla-scented cigars instead
leaving me nothing to hold on when you are gone
except the ashes of you lying by my bed

rappelle-toi Barbara
ce nom qui résonne comme un chant lointain
un homme français t’a vue sous la pluie battante
et voilà qu’une rencontre fugace devient éternelle

il ne t’a jamais parlé
jamais touché
mais dans ses vers
tu es gravée

une passante
une silhouette éphémère
transformée en immortelle lumière

mais moi, je me demande
en silence et souvent
si mon existence s’efface

ils m'ont parlé
ils m'ont touchée
ils m'ont même embrassée
mais jamais ils ne m'ont écrite

pas un vers
pas une strophe
pas une empreinte dans leurs mots

je me retiens
je me cache
je me replie

rappele-moi Barbara
comment est-ce d'être aimée comme ça?

sous le ciel de paris, un mur disait
"Je t’aime comme un soir d’été"
mais c'était en décembre
et il pleuvait toute la journée

malgré le temps, un feu brûlait
au retour de « la butte aux cailles »
dans mon vieux cœur d'âme
comme celuie de Notre-Dame

sur le chemin du Sacré-Cœur, vers chez lui
mon feu s’est enflammé avec ses lèvres, tout éblouie
pendant que Chet Baker chantait, douce mélodie
j'ai peur, je tombe sûrement amoureuse trop vite

et si demain, tout disparaît?
un souvenir que je ne veux jamais perdre
"Je t’aime comme un soir d’été," disait le mur
mais moi, je t'aimerai comme une soirée d'éternité

how many days did you show up on my door?

how many times did we run each other's arms?

how many times did we meet on that same corner?

how many nights did you fall asleep holding me?

how many mornings did you wake up next to me?

how many times did we look into each other's eyes?

how many times did you play with my hair?

how many kisses did you leave on my body?

how many coffees we've grabbed?

how many movies we've watched?

how many songs we've listened?

how many bottles of wine we've drank?

how many times we've got drunk?

how many times we've laughed?

how many dreams we've shared?

how many days, how many moments,

how many lives could we have fit

into all of time we've spent?

let me save you the suspense,

countless times

but how many of these moments stayed with you?

in how many of them i truly mattered to you?

how many days did you greet me at your door?

none

not even once