Little Marie, I talk about you

Because with your little voice

Your little manias,

You poured upon my life

Thousands of roses.

 

Little fury, I fight for you,

So that in ten thousand years

We find ourselves protected,

Under a sky as pretty

As thousands of roses.

 

I come from the sky

And the stars between them

Talk only about you,

Of a musician

Who makes his hands play

Upon a piece of wood,

Of their love

Bluer than the sky around.

 

Little Marie, I’m waiting for you numbed

Under a tile of your roof.

The cold night wind

Sends back to me the ballad

I had written for you.

Little fury, you say that life

Is a ring on every finger

Under the Florida sun.

Me, my pockets are empty

And my eyes cry out of cold

 

I come from the sky

And the stars between them

Talk only about you,

Of a musician

Who makes his hands play

Upon a piece of wood,

Of their love

Bluer than the sky around.

 

In the darkness of your street,

Little Marie, do you hear me?

I’m only waiting for you to leave…

 

I come from the sky

And the stars between them

Talk only about you,

Of a musician

Who makes his hands play

Upon a piece of wood,

Of their love

Bluer than the sky around.