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Looking for my name (Paroles)Inspirations de Mylène Farmer

Emily Dickinson

Nature - III - WHY?

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The murmur of a bee
A witchcraft yieldeth me.
If any ask me why,
'T were easier to die
Than tell.

The red upon the hill
Taketh away my will;
If anybody sneer,
Take care, for God is here,
That's all.

The breaking of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artist, who drew me so,
Must tell!

MF : Looking for my name

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See the red upon the hill
See the death looking at me
I see no trace of you and me
Little me

Nature - LXXXVI

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A LADY red upon the hill
Her annual secret keeps;
A lady white within the field
In placid lily sleeps!

The tidy breezes with their brooms
Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who may expected he?

The neighbors do not yet suspect!
The woods exchange a smile—
Orchard, and buttercup, and bird—
In such a little while!

And yet how still the landscape stands,
How nonchalant the wood,
As if the resurrection
Were nothing very odd!

MF : Looking for my name

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See the red upon the hill
See the death looking at me
I see no trace of you and me
Little me

Nature - XXIV - The wind

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Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.

When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,

As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.

MF : Looking for my name

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Whisper words of desire
Take my hand, I’m standing there
Our soul so close on paradise
When winds go round and round

We pray — to Heaven

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We pray — to Heaven —
We prate — of Heaven —
Relate — when Neighbors die —
At what o'clock to heaven — they fled —
Who saw them — Wherefore fly?

Is Heaven a Place — a Sky — a Tree?
Location's narrow way is for Ourselves —
Unto the Dead
There's no Geography —

But State — Endowal — Focus —
Where — Omnipresence — fly?

MF : Looking for my name

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Is heaven a place ?
Oh ! I see the moon
I see no trace of you…

Louis Aragon

Les Adieux et autres poèmes

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C'est toi c'est lui que je regarde
Et chaque pli de ta bouche et chaque ride au coin de tes yeux
Ces obliques blessures de la durée
C'est moi que je regarde en lui pour mieux
Me retrouver et comment il se peut
Que je me fasse en toi lui peu à peu

MF : Looking for my name

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Voir la blessure
Oblique et dure

Du temps…obstinément

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