Альбом Carla Bruni

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.

If I make the lashes dark
and the eyes more bright
and the lips more scarlet
or ask if all be right
from mirror after mirror,
no vanity's displayed:
I'm looking for the face I had
before the world was made.
What if I look upon a man
as though on my beloved,
and my blood be cold while
and my heart unmoved?
Why should he think me cruel
or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
before the world was made

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

I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler

I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound

I judged my features, jarred my hair
I pushed my dimples by,
and waited, if they twinkled back
Conviction might, of me

I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound

I told myself, "Take Courage, Friend,
That was a former time
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!"

I turned my Being round and round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound
To ask the Owner's name
For doubt, that I should know the Sound

I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there

Promise me no promises,
So will I not promise you:
Keep we both our liberties,
Never false and never true:
Let us hold the die uncast,
Free to come as free to go:
For I cannot know your past,
And of mine what can you know?

You, so warm, may once have been
Warmer towards another one:
I, so cold, may once have seen
Sunlight, once have felt the sun:
Who shall show us if it was
Thus indeed in time of old?
Fades the image from the glass,
And the fortune is not told.

If you promised, you might grieve
For lost liberty again:
If I promised, I believe
I should fret to break the chain.
Let us be the friends we were,
Nothing more but nothing less:
Many thrive on frugal fare
Who would perish of excess.

Promise me no promises,
So will I not promise you:
Keep we both our liberties,
Never false and never true:
Let us hold the die uncast,
Free to come as free to go:
For I cannot know your past,
And of mine what can you know?

If you promised, you might grieve
For lost liberty again:
If I promised, I believe
I should fret to break the chain.
Let us be the friends we were,
Nothing more but nothing less:
Many thrive on frugal fare
Who would perish of excess.

Promises like pie-crust
Promises like pie-crust

There is a wind where the rose was;
cold rain where sweet grass was;
and clouds like sheep
stream o'er the steep
grey skies where the lark was.
Nought gold where you hair was;
nought warm where your hand was;
but phantom,forlorn,
beneath the thorn,
your ghost where your face was.
Sad winds where your voice was;
tears,tears where my heart was;
and ever with me
child,ever with me,
silence where hope was.

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

I went to heaven, -
'Twas a small town,
Lit with a ruby,
Lathed with down.
Stiller than the fields
At the full dew,
Beautiful as pictures
No man drew.
People like the moth,
Of mechlin, frames,
Duties of gossamer,
And eider names.
Almost contented
I could be
'Mong such unique
Society.

When I am old, and comforted,
And done with this desire,
With memory to share my bed
And peace to share my fire,

I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands
Beneath my laundered cap,
And watch my cool and fragile hands
Lie light upon my lap.

And I will have a sprigged gown
With lace to kiss my throat;
I'll draw my curtain to the town,
And hum a purring note.

And I'll forget the way of tears,
And rock, and stir my tea.
But oh, I wish those blessed years
Were further than they be!

This, no song of ingénue,
This, no ballad of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever the natural bents.
This, a solo of sapience,
This, a chantey of sophistry,
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them until they loved me.

Decked in garments of sable hue,
Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents,
Wearing shower bouquets of rue,
Walk I ever in penitence.
Oft I roam, as my heart repents,
Through God's acre of memory,
Marking stones, in my reverence,
"I loved them until they loved me."

Pictures pass me in long review,--
Marching columns of dead events.
I was tender, and, often, true;
Ever a prey to coincidence.
Always knew I the consequence;
Always saw what the end would be.
We're as Nature has made us -- hence
I loved them until they loved me.

Princes, never I'd give offense,
Won't you think of me tenderly?
Here's my strength and my weakness, gents -
I loved them until they loved me.

At last the secret is out,
As it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell
To tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and into the square
The tongues has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear,
There's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir,
Behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances
And the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue
The attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story,
There is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing,
High up in the convent wall,
The scent of the elder bushes,
The sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer,
The handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret,
A private reason for this.