Carla
Bruni - Those Dancing Days Are Gone
Come, let me sing into
your ear;
Those dancing days are
gone,
All that silk and satin
gear
Crouch upon a stone,
Wrapping that foul body
up
In as foul a rag:
I carry the sun in a
golden cup.
The moon in a silver
bag.
Curse as you may I sing
it through;
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure
you,
The children that he
gave,
Are somewhere sleeping
like a top
Under a marble flag?
I carry the sun in a
golden cup.
The moon in a silver
bag.
I thought it out this
very day.
Noon upon the clock,
A man may put pretence
away
Who leans upon a stick,
May sing, and sing until
he drop,
Whether to maid or hag:
I carry the sun in a
golden cup,
The moon in a silver
bag.
Carla Bruni - Lady Weeping
At The Crossroads
Lady, weepinng at the
crossroads,
Would you meet your love
In twilight with his
greyhounds,
And the hawk upon his
glove?
Bribe the bird then on
the branches,
Bribe them to be dumb,
Stare the hot sun out
of heaven
That the night may come.
Starless are the nights
of travel,
Bleak the winter wind;
Run with terror all before
you
And regret behind.
Run until you hear the
ocean's
Everlasting cry;
Deep though it may be
and bitter
You must drink it dry,
Wear out patience in the
lowest
Dungeons of the sea,
Searching through the
stranded shipwrecks
For the golden key,
Push on to the world's
end, pay the
Dread guard with a kiss
Cross the rotten bridge
that totters
Over the abyss.
There stands the deserted
castle
Ready to explore;
Enter, climb the marble
staircase,
Open the locked door.
Cross the silent empty
ballroom
Doubt and anger past;
Blow the cobwebs from
the mirror,
See yourself at last.
Put your hand behind the
wainscot,
You have done your part;
Find the penknife there
and plunge it
Into your false heart
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