Emporte ma folie
Au gré du vent,
Fleur en chantant cueillie
Et jetée en rêvant.
_ Emporte ma folie
Au gré du vent!
Comme la fleur fauchée
Périt l'amour.
La main qui t'a touchée
Fuit ma main sans retour.
_ Comme la fleur fauchée,
Périt l'amour!
Que le vent qui te sèche,
O pauvre fleur,
Tout à l'heure si fraîche
Et demain sans couleur!
_ Que le vent qui te sèche,
Sèche mon cœur!
Carry my folly away
at the will of the wind,
flower plucked in a song
and discarded in a dream.
_ Carry my folly away
at the will of the wind!
Like the flower cut down
love perishes.
The hand which touched you
flees my hand forever.
_ Like the flower cut down
love perishes!
May the wind which dries you,
o poor flower,
just now so fresh
and tomorrow without colour!
_ May the wind which dries you,
dry my heart!
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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