It's hidden in the fog over the Seine,
in a tree row shade of The Tuileries
and the summer rain at Clishy,
in being madly in love with Marlene,
In a tear in her eyes, shine of her lips,
in the shivers of her heart, her lungs,
hidden in the swirl of her hips
end crazy feeling that you're young.
Paris is a boulevard which awakes,
squares and people and their wits,
Paris are the destinies that it makes,
glory and misery, darkness and glitz.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem