The morning is my opening of the day,
When trees are being fresh and leaves are green.
In fresh of new, I tremble to portray
Your image, to me which comes so serene.
In me you must always know my disease,
To be tangled in desire for your touch.
To always love with open soul and heart that's free
The tremble that for me means so very much.
Yet sometimes I feel you do not favour
The touching of hearts that I always seek.
Your resistance to my yearning flavour
But makes me wonder if we shall ever meet.
This above all else you must begin to know,
That if we begin in trust, love shall grow.
Yet again, brilliant.
Yet again, brilliant.
Vive le Quebec libre!