« It’s raining—it’s wonderful. I love you.
We’ll stay home:
Nothing pleases us more than ourselves
In this late-season weather.
It’s raining. Taxis come and go.
We see the buses rolling by
And the tugboats on the Seine
Make such a noise… that we can’t hear ourselves think!
It’s wonderful: it’s raining. I listen
To the rain whose patter
Strikes the windowpane drop by drop…
And you smile at me tenderly.
I love you. Oh! that sound of weeping water,
Sobbing like a farewell.
You’ll be leaving me soon:
It seems as if it’s raining in your eyes. » (Francis Carco)