• Édith Piaf

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Waiting room

One near to the other, they were there,
Both sitting, like they were asleep
On the edge of that little wooden bench
In the waiting room.
Through the window we could see
The old merry-go-round that squealed
And its whirling music
In the waiting room,
This music seemed to push
The big hand on the clock
With an excessive noise,
Excessive and ridiculous
And this clock was obsessing them,
This clock was watching them,
This clock that was whirling
In the waiting room,
And in their head it was slipping
Merry-go-round, music, clock...
The clock became the merry-go-round,
The merry-go-round became the clock,
And their memories, in a cortege,
Came back, paraded, slipped away...
 
One near to the other, they were there,
Both sitting, like they were asleep
On the edge of that little wooden bench
In the waiting room.
And when the train arrived,
Both looked at each other
And without a word they got up,
In the waiting room,
And in their head it was slipping:
Present, past, merry-go-round...
The memories became the present
The present became a memory...
And their words, in a cortege,
Hesitated, became cloudy, slipped away.
When, in the train, he got on
It's her who realized it
And run back
To the waiting room
But the train has disappeared...
 
Don't you think it's stupid,
A woman who walks in the streets
With a satchel and a side cap?
It's stupid !...
It's stupid !....
... It's stupid!
 
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