Standing with her lover there
I hold the umbrella high
Behind Lady Éclair
I let escape a small sigh
As I watch his hands tangle her hair
I think of the dreary life that is all mine
Of the many mistakes
I made throughout my time
But by now it is far too late
If only he knew that for him I cared
Would it be me standing there?
In place of my beautiful Lady Éclair
With his hands in her tangled hair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem