Flames are raging round a tower.
A black angel with a suitcase jumps
from a window on the 37th floor. What's he taking with him?

I play Rêverie on the piano. pp très doux et très
expressif. But how am I supposed to.
I turn off the sound on the telly.

The black angel jumps to his death once again
and I need a reason to live I really believe in.
But you'd see it too if you were to close my eyes:
it is dark inside my mind.

There is a tower collapsing here
and everything is gentle and expressive
as an eyelash blown from a fingertip.

Translation: 2008, Donald Gardner