Perhaps she lives
In our dreams alone,
She whose face is
Illumined
By the rays
Of the sun,
While the dansette plays
Some romantic melody,
O how I love
The one
Who lives in my perfect love.
It's so strange,
The morning comes,
And there are tears in my eyes;
My dream has disappeared,
Lost in the wind of time;
She who looked at me
With such tenderness,
While the dansette played
Some romantic melody
O how I love the one
Who lives in my perfect love.
Memories leave me in peace,
O my past,
Where did you flee,
My golden youth,
All squandered,
All gone,
My thoughts torment me,
Precious faith, please
Comfort me,
For what is my life
Without you.
Perhaps she lives
In our dreams alone,
She whose face is
Illumined
By the rays
Of the sun,
While the dansette plays
Some romantic melody,
O how I love
The one
Who lives in my perfect love.
"Who Lives in My Perfect Love" is a pretty accurate translation of a song I wrote - in French - when I was about 19, although verse three is a recent addition.
