Nos histoires

Les feuilles tombent encore,
Elles ont bien couvert
Nos routes aux bicyclettes,
Les lieux favoris au bord de la rivière,
Les rires aux larmes oubliés;
Nos histoires, qui les va connaître?
Blâme la mélancolie pour me faire soupirer;
Parfois ton image me réapparaît
Comme une brise enfumée,
Et j'imagine où tu es.

Leaves are still falling,
They have covered well
The bicycle routes we used to take,
Our dear places by the river,
The laughter to tears, forgotten,
Our stories, will anyone know them?
Blame melancholy for making me sigh;
Sometimes your image reappears in my mind
Like a smoky breeze,
And I imagine where you are.

Frunzele-s încă-n cădere,
Au acoperit bine
Drumurile noastre cu biciclete,
Locurile dragi de lângă râu,
Râsetele până la lacrimi, uitate,
Poveștile noastre, cine le va cunoaște?
Blamează melancolia că mă face să oftez;
Câteodată imaginea ta îmi reapare
Ca o briză fumurie,
Și îmi imaginez unde ești.

Image credit: RoonzNL on Pixabay


For ol’ times & friends:

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3 responses to “Nos histoires”

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