Sniper | Monsite

Sniper

Remember the story of that man
Who was he? Which army? Which country?
Remember the story of that man...

At the crest of the hillock, I stand,
In the leaves, in the trees, the breeze;

But I know that I’m not from this land;
Time has blown through my bones, and is gone;

And I know that this gun in my hands,
Little boy, happy boy, was a toy.
And I know that this gun in my hands
Was a toy.

But today I’m lost and in need
Of your sterner than steel art and skill.

Ô Teach me in the wind how to read,
How to grasp its obscure curvatures;

How to cruise at the most of my speed,
With no fear and no doubts, in the clouds;
How to cruise at the most of my speed
In the clouds.

Cause today I would love in the light,
To her bays, and her rays find the way;

Cross the space between us and alight
On the edge of her lips, and her hips;

From the dawn of the days, through the nights,
In her wide and deep eyes gaze my eyes;
From the dawn of the days through the nights
Gaze my eyes.

How could I, Ô Tell me! Get to her?
With poems of dry sand in my hands,

With no more than pieces of paper,
And tangled into chords, a few words,

Forever and ever Forever!
Whistling here and there in the air;
Forever and ever Forever!
In the air.

How could I? Ô Sniper! How could I? Ô Tell me!
Get to her?
How could I? Ô Sniper! How could I? Ô Tell me!
Get to her?

Remember the story of that man
Who was he? Which army? Which country?

Remember the story of that man...

At the crest of the hillock, I stand;

In leaves, in the trees, the breeze;

Yet always in the sky of my land,

In a flurry of wings hums the spring,

And always in the palm of my hands,
In a flurry of wings vibe the strings;
And always in the palm of my hands
Vibe the strings;

And always, and always till the end
Of the blossoming days, of the days;
And always, and always till the end
Of the days!

Sylvain Danto