Insondables - Mylène Farmer

Plus rien n’enchante le monde

Insondables sont les flots

Et là contemple les ombres

Il lui dit à demi-mot

Qu’il l’aime et qu’il l’adore

Qu’il l’aime

Mais le chaos du corps

A ses raisons, a ses remords

Et le ciel est sans nuage

Et les jours semblent longs

A perdu son point d’ancrage

Il rentre dans sa maison

Il l’aime, il l’adore

Il l’aime encore

Plus rien n’enchante le monde

Insondables sont les vents

Et là contemple les ombres

Un silence assourdissant

Il l’aime et il l’adore

Il l’aime

Mais le chaos du corps

A ses raisons, a ses remords

Et le ciel est sans nuage

Et les jours sembles longs

Perdu le cœur d’une femme

Et la mort porte son nom

Il l’aime et il l’adore

Il l’aime

Il saignera encore

Jusqu'à sa mort

Sa mort, sa mort, sa mort

Sa mort, sa mort…

Mylene Farmer —

Nothing enchants the world anymore

Unfathomable are the waves

And there contemplate the shadows

He tells her in a half-word

That he loves her and adores her

that he loves her

But the chaos of the body

To his reasons, to his remorse

And the sky is cloudless

And the days seem long

Has lost its anchor

He goes back to his house

He loves her, he adores her

He still loves her

Nothing enchants the world anymore

Unfathomable are the winds

And there contemplate the shadows

A deafening silence

He loves her and he adores her

He loves it

But the chaos of the body

To his reasons, to his remorse

And the sky is cloudless

And the days seem long

Lost a woman's heart

And death bears his name

He loves her and he adores her

He loves it

He will bleed again

To his death

His death, his death, his death

His death, his death...

Mylène Farmer -