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lyrics

Il est l’heure enfin de bénir
Le sommeil éteint des esclaves,
Et j’attends ses mains à venir
En roses blanches dans les caves.

J’attend enfin son souffle frais,
Sur mon coeur enfin clos aux fraudes;
Agneau-pascal dans les marais,
Et blessure au fond des eaux chaudes.

J’attends des nuits sans lendemains,
Et des faiblesses sans remède;
J’attends son ombre sur mes mains,
Et son image dans l’eau tiède.

J’attends vos nuits afin de voir
Mes désirs se laver la face,
Et mes songes aux bains du soir,
Mourir en un palais de glace.

...

It’s finally the time to bless
The ruined sleep of slaves,
And I wait for hands to come
With white roses in the cellars.

I wait finally for fresh breath,
On my heart finally closed to fraud,
Paschal lamb in the marshes,
And a wound at the bottom of hot springs.

I wait for nights with no tomorrow’s,
And weaknesses without remedy;
I wait for his shadow on my hands,
And his image in warm springs.

I wait for those nights in order to see
My desire to wash the face,
And my dreams of evening baths,
To die in a palace of ice.

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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