Chain Son to Autonomy-Day 30!!

Les sanglots longs
Des violons

De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur

Monotone.
Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand

Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens

Et je pleure;
Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais

Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la

Feuille morte.

“Translation” of Chanson d’automne-French poet Verlaine

Let’s sing, lots of long
hits, violins of the autonomous,
blessed man, queer
dunes of language
monotonous,
tough suffocation,
its glum squanders
sun like here,
just me, a souvenir,
just your ancient
jet of pleasure.
jet a mean vase,
our vent my vase.
What importance
decadence of the
parallel, of a
firey death.

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