Lean out your window, golden hair
I heard you singing in the midnight air
my book is closed, I read no more
watching the fire dance, on the floor
I’ve left my book,
I’ve left my room
For I heard you singing through the gloom
singing and singing, a merry air
lean out the window, golden hair…
(Lyrics from a poem by James Joyce)
(Texte provenant d’un poЁЁme de James Joyce