I'm going now, and I'm taking my music with me. Lovely cognac's gold-warmth in my belly, and in my belly, the sadness of every clime. I'm going now, I'm taking along that music I lulled myself with. I was created by a woman, I am undone by a woman, my sweet music, will I be renewed by a woman? I'm going, I'm taking the music I toiled for.
What a beautiful language the eyes may speak, when they speak that of shaken dews. I'm going now, dear, and I'm taking my -- your? -- silly -- there is no music.