The spy
Émile Naoumoff
Pale spy of Love
My memory scarcely faithful
Had to observe this beautiful
Fortress only one hour one day
You disguise yourself
In your guise
Spying memory of the heart
You will no longer find again the exquisite
Trick and the heart alone is victorious
But do you see this memory
Eyes blindfolded, ready to die
It affirms that one can believe in it
My heart will conquer without bloodshed