I Breathe where your heart beats - Tribute to Victor Hugo - Arlo Seren

For centuries, poets have written magnificent texts about love. I like reading them and sometimes I get inspiration from them for my songs.

Here is the original text of "I Breathe where your heart beats" from Victor Hugo

I breathe where your heart beats,
You know; what good is
Staying here if you leave me,
And live if you go away?

What good is living, being the shadow
Of this departing angel?
What good, under the dark sky,
Being nothing but the night?

I am the flower of wall**
Whose only possession is April.
All you need to do is going away
For me to be left with nothing

You surround me with halos
To see you is my only worry (preoccupation)
All you need to do is fly away
For me to fly as well

If you leave, my brow bends
My soul to the sky, its craddle
will flee, in your white hand
You hold this wild bird.

What do you want me to become
If I can no longer hear your steps?
Is it your life or mine
Who leaves? I don’t know.

When my storm ends
I take some more in your pure heart ;
I am as a dove
that comes to drink from the azure lake


#lovesong #lyrics #lovemusic #lovemusic #song

Love teaches the soul
About the universe, healthy and blessed ;
And this small flamme
Light the inifite on its own

Without you, all of nature
Is nothing but a locked cell,
Where I wander,
Pale and no longer loved

Without you, all crumbles and falls
Shawdow fall upon my dark brow
A celebration is a tomb
Patria is an exil (AHEM)

I’m beg and plead to you ;
Don’t run away from my woes
O warbler of my soul
Who sings in my branches

What could I want?
What could I fear?
What will I do with life,
If you’re no longer by my side?

You carry in the light,
You carry in the bushes,
On one wing my prayer,
And on the other my songs.

What will I say to the fields veiled
By inconsolable pain?
What will I do with the star?
What will I do with the flower?

What will I say to the wistful wood
Who used to lit your softness?
What will I answer the rose
Asking : “Where is my sister?”

“I will die ; flee, if you dare.
Why bother, days bygone
Looking at those things
She no longer look at

What will I do of the lyre,
Of vertue, of destiny?
Alas ! And, without your smile,
What will I do of the morrow?

What will I do, alone, wild,
Without you, of the day and the skies,
Of my kisses without your mouth
And of my tears without your eyes?