My thoughts turn faithfully to my cigarette,
conspirator-friend for one deep, long breath.
There is a tale told somewhere, I have heard,
it was tobacco leaves that grew on the tomb of a girl
born and straightway seized by death in a time
that has long been forgotten.
Listless dull smoke drifts before me,
traces of a flame that, just kindled, begins to fade.
O how my heart torments me!
If only these many long, desolate,
empty days might be consumed as surely as you!
conspirator-friend for one deep, long breath.
There is a tale told somewhere, I have heard,
it was tobacco leaves that grew on the tomb of a girl
born and straightway seized by death in a time
that has long been forgotten.
Listless dull smoke drifts before me,
traces of a flame that, just kindled, begins to fade.
O how my heart torments me!
If only these many long, desolate,
empty days might be consumed as surely as you!
