English translation of 'La maladie d'aimer'.
I cannot tell you
from where she entered
or how
or when
or why.
She had to invent
a reason probably,
an argument,
another disease,
friendship for example.
Someone gave her a permit
to access
a rugged playground
called love,
the illness of a broken heart.
I slowly opened this door
that remained closed for too long.
You left without even coming in.
Did you see the remains behind me?
Did I scare you?
Why...
while my love is as innocent as
the laughter of a baby?
Now I have to comfort myself from
a loss, worse
than the loss of an unknown father.
The treasure of my thoughts slips between my fingers,
my steps are getting lost
and I'm drowning in my tears.
I wonder if you slammed the door when leaving?
She does not close properly, the key is lost
and sometimes
she remains half opened.
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