Prévert's Song
Prévert’s SongA Serge Gainsbourg song Oh, I wish you still remembered, my dear,That Indian summer, golden and severe,When life was beautiful beyond compare,And the sun burned hotter than it does out there. There was a song you used to softly sing,A song by Prévert — melancholy thing,The Autumn Leaves — your voice would fill the air,And I’d stand still, lost somewhere in your stare. The dead…











