Love and War

Far from the Parisian Pavillon,
in the golden glory of its playwrights and poets
(love, first learned in the lady's eye)

Hemmed in on all sides is my humble, stone château,
contained by the cold blue waves of the sea.
Come, forgive the mess, and stay for a while:
Lets have dinner, what will it be?
Let me bring you cold wine, hard cheese,
and perhaps a crust of bread.

I must confess, I know more Bonaparte than La Belle Cordière,
and have spent many hours hearing the doleful, quiet sea.
(shall we dance, madame, cotillion or quadrille?)

This military man,
I met on an anonymous journey,
but parted ways thereafter,
lest he betray me to Château d'lf.

So let the the battle snares play on, love, and the battle commence.
For I've found my song, found my war, and found my prize.

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