French, The Language Of Love Poem by Natasa To

French, the Language of Love

French is a whisper beneath the moon,
A tender melody, a silver tune.
It dances softly from heart to heart,
Where every word becomes a work of art.

Bonjour, mon amour, — a morning kiss,
Je t'aime — a promise wrapped in bliss.
Tu me manques — when you're far away,
Je pense à toi through every day.

Mon cœur, my heart, ma belle, my light,
Mon chéri, you make the dark feel bright.
Ma vie, my life, mon ange, my dear,
Your name sounds sweeter when you are near.

Avec toi, I want time to stay,
Pour toujours, forever and always.
À tes côtés, beside you I'll be,
Je veux t'aimer endlessly.

Tu es magnifique, when I see your face,
Je suis amoureux, lost in your grace.
Quelle merveille, how beautiful you are,
My étoile, my moon, my brightest star.

Un baiser, a kiss, soft and slow,
Mon bonheur, the joy that you show.
Je t'adore, more than words can say,
Mon amour, forever, come what may.

Perhaps love speaks in every tongue,
In every heart, both old and young.
But when French is carried on the air,
It sounds like love is waiting there.

For French does not simply say "I love you"—
It lets the feeling breathe,
It turns je t'aime into a melody,
And makes the heart believe.