Paris перевод Париж

Paris

Paris! I longed to you all my life. I wished to plunge into your seething sea. You were far away from me, and finally I’m here at thy feet and ask to accept me in thy nets. I ask to embrace me with thy soft hands and to allow me forget everything in your exciting sensuality.

Paris … There is some magic in this word, something that forces heart to beat faster. In this word myths of generations, love of the entire Planet, passion of all the Universe have united. « Paris, I love you ». Millions of people make declarations of love to you daily. And you refuse them, how many hearts have you broken? Mine is not an exception. And here I am to face you, and you see everything. Even what is hidden from other people. You see me through. I can conceal nothing from you, and I don’t want to, I want you to learn me real, not fake. I will reveal all secrets to you. I know, you will tell nobody, you will store them. That would be our own small secret.

Paris …  My head starts spinning from a glass of pink champagne that you suggest to try in thy seething streets. And I get drunk from this devil cocktail of cars, people, streets, shops. But you pour and pour. Your cellars are endless.

Paris … La tour Eiffel is blazing in your eyes, and reflecting in muddy waters of Seine. You light up sparks on river buses, and the world changes. Even gloomy statues of the Notre Dame de Paris in your eyes turn into kind of elves. As a magic wand waves, gardens blossom, and there comes spring. Spring which never ends.

Paris … My heart, mentality, soul and body are sacrificed to you. Now you’re their master. I have obeyed to you. My resistance is useless. I have bent a knee before my king. Order, my master! Your faithful slave is ready to serve you eternally.

Paris … I step on thy streets shy, uncertainly, as the child doing its first steps. And you as the careful parent, softly and gently push me forward. Persistently you suggest moving to the treasured goal. And your voice whispers with wind gentle artful words to my ear. I listen to them and I trust. I trust each thy word, I watch each thy gesture.

Paris … Music in thy name. Dance is thy soul. Fire of desire is in thy eyes and tenderness of roses is on thy lips. I wish to dance a tango on the Champs ;lysees. I want you to whirl me in whirlpool of your passion. And I do not wish to come up. I wish to sink in you, to plunge into azure waters and to be dissolved in them.

Paris … Allow me to fly like a wind in le jardin des Tuileries, inhaling aromas of grasses, moving crones of trees, lifting the autumn leaves. I will whirl it in a magic waltz of dreams, and the old statues will leave the marble covers and will arrange a ball. And fireworks from stars will decorate the night sky. And we will get lost in a crowd of gapers. And then we will find a secluded corner from which we will observe all the action.

Paris … An affair with you has neither beginning nor end. It has only a sequel. You are a magic fairy tale, getting in which one would not have desire to come back. You are that mysterious world of the world behind the looking-glass. You are its past, present and future. You are the question and the answer. You are the world.

Paris …. I love you!