Conclusion, Poem by Charles Cros

I dreamed of divine loves,
The intoxication of arms and wines,
The gold, the silver, the vain kingdoms,

Me, eighteen years old, She, sixteen.
Along the amusing paths
We will go on our chestnut horses.

The time of naive confessions
Is far off, of reckless vows!
I have money only in my hair.

The souls I would need
And the stars are too far away.
I will die drunk, in a corner.

Charles Cros

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