Mais Moi Je Vis La Vie en Rouge

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Mais Moi Je Vis La Vie en Rouge

Your soul is like a purple flower,

Mary, whose eyes are amethyst,

Whose lips are like red wine when kist,

With sweet life and sweet death for dower;

There are who will have none of these,

Who walk in peace all day upright,

And in the night pray on their knees⁠—

The pleasures of the life in white.

All cloth’d with virtues manifold

Are these⁠—their souls are like white snow;

Fair love, around thy heart I know

My heart is bound with chains of gold.

Sweet youths whose life is in the spring,

The water is all wine they drink,

They sorrow not at anything⁠—

The pleasures of the life in pink.

Your gold hair’s like an aureole,

Your lips are gold wine bought and sold,

Pure golden kisses bought for gold;

Each breast is like a golden bowl.

These things are for a scorn to those

That read great books both night and day,

That say, Joy dieth as the rose⁠—

The pleasures of the life in gray.

Sweet youths, white ladies, scholars sour,

Rejoice, and hasten on your way;

Mary, whose skin is white as whey,

Your soul is like a purple flower.