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“When will your sun come - to make everything reborn? -The burn of your fingers pressed against my being- I would like to fall asleep in your body again And make of your smiles an open source When my life is like a desolate desert I would like to fall asleep by the light sand of your skin. Your voice - your voice alone knows how to put an end to my anger As your lips faint on the pains of my yesterday When will you come to drape me in your radiant sun? So that I find life in its first taste (-The glow of your hair is a roof of moonlight.)” — Emmanuelle Soni-Dessaigne
When will your sun come - to make everything reborn?
-The burn of your fingers pressed against my being-
I would like to fall asleep in your body again
And make of your smiles an open source
When my life is like a desolate desert
I would like to fall asleep by the light sand of your skin.
Your voice - your voice alone knows how to put an end to my anger
As your lips faint on the pains of my yesterday
When will you come to drape me in your radiant sun?
So that I find life in its first taste
(-The glow of your hair is a roof of moonlight.)