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Les Amants De Venise (The Lovers Of Venice) - text

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She said to him: “We might think we are in Venice
Where the streams brimmed with grey water.”
How it rained… How it rained
She said to him: “We might think we are in a gondola.
I am listening to your heart that is playing its barcarole”
How it rained… How it rained
They were there, huddled in their caravan
With the night and the storm at the door
She said to him: “We might think we are in Venice.”
He replied: “But we are in Venice!”
How they loved each other… How they loved each other
Here are the lights twinkling by the hundred
The pretty night coloured with lanterns
Close your eyes
You will see better
But they saw only a poor reflection
That did not even light up their misery.
And just down there, at the corner of the road
A little plaque in pale blue
Where written beneath was seen:
“Italian Gate”
La-la-la...

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