Do you see what we see, that is blurring? No, you don't see. You are not in the angle, not in the triangle. Like when you were making salt, Like when I was flying in your feathers, Between the dunes, through the door between bays, I see you dreaming, With eyes down that hurt me, With eyes down that stop me. Little by little, everything is waiting for me, I undress, I detach, without leaving a trace, The cymbals, the symbols, stick, We remember, we gather, Little by little, everything is reminding me, The winds of pride, little by little, little by little, A dust in the eye, and the whole world, suddenly, is troubled, Like when you were making salt, Like when I was flying in your feathers, Between the dunes, through the door between bays, I see you crying, With eyes down that hurt me, With eyes down that stop me. Little by little, everything is waiting for me, I undress, I detach, without leaving a trace, The cymbals, the symbols, stick, We remember, we gather, Little by little, everything is reminding me, Tu vois ce qu'on voit ? Qui s'ébranle ? Non, tu vois pas.