My love I thought
with naivety
That one sprig of lily of the valley
could bring you back
So I found
One or two old sonnets
To remind you
To call you back (here the french word is the same for the two meanings)
To me my love
Through this beautiful day
Of spring I let
Close to your feet fall
A lone sprig of lily of the valley
But it withered
Waiting for this kiss
That will never come
The month of may
Played me
This year
I let flow too many feelings
This time the month of may
Laughed at me
This year
etc etc
Excuse my poor english... I don't want to spam, so I won't put the whole translation, but basically it talks about a past love that was never fulfilled and is now a bitter but cherished memory. The Old Lover could be the one she loved, but from the whole song, I got the feeling (that could be just me though) that the one singing the song is actually the old lover, who talks about a woman he loved when he was young, and who has now withered just like the sprig of lily of the valley and lives on his memories. A woman singing in first person about a man is not unheard of.
Roughly translated, it starts like this:
My love I thought with naivety That one sprig of lily of the valley could bring you back So I found One or two old sonnets To remind you To call you back (here the french word is the same for the two meanings) To me my love Through this beautiful day Of spring I let Close to your feet fall A lone sprig of lily of the valley But it withered Waiting for this kiss That will never come
The month of may Played me This year I let flow too many feelings This time the month of may Laughed at me This year etc etc
Excuse my poor english... I don't want to spam, so I won't put the whole translation, but basically it talks about a past love that was never fulfilled and is now a bitter but cherished memory. The Old Lover could be the one she loved, but from the whole song, I got the feeling (that could be just me though) that the one singing the song is actually the old lover, who talks about a woman he loved when he was young, and who has now withered just like the sprig of lily of the valley and lives on his memories. A woman singing in first person about a man is not unheard of.