Valse de la vie et la mort

Valse de la vie et la mort

Une mascarade
Dans noir et blanc
Noir pour la mort
Et blanc pour la vie

The count that lives down the hill
Threw a ball the other night
I couldn’t go—previous engagements kept me busy
But I heard a story from a man who was there

Dressed in gay colours, they were
Festive reds, bright oranges, and royal golds
And to cover each of their faces—maybe more—
They wore a mask

There was one couple there who was of curious note:
He in black with a dark bone mask
And she, his mistress,
Dressed all in white.

While she was carefree and jovial,
Bringing great excitement to those she spoke to,
He had a somber strength in him.
Striking fear to those who were near.

The pair did not take off their masks,
Even when the others had long since shed
The covers which hid them before,
The two merely looked on,

She with a smile and he with a frown
As the gay dancers revealed
Themselves before their follows and before
She in white and he in black

Nearing the end of the ball,
The man in black and his mistress in white
Took to the nearly empty floor
And began a slow waltz

Un, deux, trois—un, deux, trois
Noir et blanc dansent côte à côte
Une valse dangereuse:
Une valse de la vie et la mort.

No one dared to step out
Choosing to watch the couple from the sides.
For it is only a foolish person
Who will dance between life and death