He was a child I was a child Sentimental and wild Now we’re resting Now we’re resting For twelve short years we lived out of health and of prosperous wealth oh my dearest oh my dearest My only portrait to remind you my wine on your old cloak my voice sustained in our piano comme les carillons de notre nuit de noces Heir of my illness writer of all the stories and the words that I’m haunting that I’m haunting When your heart is on your sleeve then I’ll bid you my sweet adieu don’t forget me don’t forget me The other woman to explain her letters I deplore I’m the flare inside your sorry dark eyes and I’ll leave you nevermore