...Love me tender
Gender bender
Money lender
Big spender
Now get around it;
Nigh rub it a healer:
Camouflage, sabotage, fuselage, spee-ee-eed alternator....

Isiah Berlin is reputed to have said something prosaic to the effect, within which he reckoned, that poetry can be defined
as that which cannot be translated.

1. I have sketched the above translation in response to an apparently old and unanswered request. I may not have solved
the original problem. I hope that I have, at least, lent another mind's sense of context to it. The beginning threw me as
well, but I always like to look at the whole text for clues. Since the word, "insoumise", used in a later verse here, would
have meant, "absent-without-leave", to circumspect military officers elsewhere, I have tried to translate the problem-
phrase, "vers midi sept", to, "about-turn" which means, "Soldier, turn around to face the opposite direction and perhaps
both review and reconsider from whence you came!"

Now, there are three truer translations - to the French - of, "about-turn", as such - four globally (mis)understood, tired,
worn out, and old, spent secrets:

(i) "Volte-face!";
(ii) "Demi-tour" &
(iii) "Revirement" - the vowels here potentially err, hooting the same sounds as our, "problem-phrase". Only if using a cited
textbook recommendation to utter the order where taken as read yet unheard by a speaker uninitiated in French
pronunciation of its final syllable, each vowel in order iterates its part of a continuous howl - and that's all we would
hear - when the three weak sounds are recited, shouting over any distance. Yet, the stronger the French, "R", in the
middle of this word [re-vi-re_-ment], there in the third syllable, the more the, "revirement", chimes with "mi-di - ET -
sept". The "on" sound at the end would rhyme with "sept" excluding all silent, (higher frequency), consonance as read
by the international American English of irrelevant, post-war air-traffic control. Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah, holding hands
together, together, together, like cars. However, the title of the song is... "Depuis toi", so, after all it is up-to you,
(meaning, "you choose"). I'm afraid it'll say whatever we want, whatever we like, if ever we read whatever we write,
after we listen.

2. Of course, nowadays, clock-faces are chronologically, ordinarily, and fortunately, quite distinct and discernible from
other, circles, circuits, discs, loops, mandalas and our moral compass! But luckily, at the perfect middle of their top, the
ancient, "I Ching", the "Zodiac", and, "Clocks", all three, coincide. There fly, in each perfect case, duration, halos, hubris,
heaven, light, midday, noon, paternalism, summer, south, strength, 12pm, and, derived of the hour's contemporaneous
and creative abstraction: lunch. Complementary midnight anchors and rests its case receptively, converging with inert
yet apposite darkness, gravity, the vast expanse of the earth, maternity and materialism, north and winter, diametrically,
although not adversarial, opposite; at the bottom of both of the geocentric oracles, for "...I am a jealous God..." to
consider.

"Midi" yields four translations, our choice is again subject to context:

(i) "Midday" - sounds a lot like "midi";
(ii) "Noon" - rhymes with "moon" and most of the other cuckoos;
(iii) "12pm" - perfunctory and concise &
(iv) "Lunchtime" or "lunch" - but only if it is couched in particular phrases.

3. "Vers midi sept", has meant, (so far), to me:

(i) "About-approximately-around-exactly-seven-ticks-under-soon", - (Good-old young generation, arithmetical-
progression, progressive-alliteration, contraction, delineation, inflection... indexing directories by direction of...
methodical redistributions of... circumspect constellations of... egos involved in massive concentrations of... mutual
affinity with... the dumb-smart-kid and the least-most-counter-clockwise-rule... knocking the crown straight!");
(ii) "12pm", - exactly and actually, in place of and as distinct from the other expressions since seven was, (and yet is), a
so-called, "lucky number".
(iii) "About noon admittedly", - although that depends upon a double-entendre - wherein the typical, "...sept", would have
misapprehended the originally, spoken, written, sung or unsung, "...certes".

4. Competence is cohesive specificity.

Careful but look,
Where luck is
The bucket,
When fortune's
What's in it:
Forsooth.

So noon's been a long time and still, I am absolutely certain, I could be wrong.

"N'importe".