not tonight Josephine,
in an army’s strength
therein lies the denouement.
From here you’re haunting me.
By the Seine so beautiful,
only not to be of use –
impossible.

so strange, victory -
1,200 hundred spires, the only sound
Moscow burning.
Empty like the Tuileries.
Like a dream Vienne seems,
only not to be of use -
impossible.

In the last extremety –
to advance or not to advance –
I hear you laughing.

even still you’re calling me
“not tonight, not tonight,
not tonight”
Josephine