Those Dancing Days Are Gone - Carla Bruni (卡拉·布吕尼)

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and sating gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Curse as you may I sing it through

What matter if the knave

That the most could pleasure you

The children that he gave

Somewhere sleeping like a top

Under a marble flag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

I thought it out this very day

Noon upon the clock

All that silk and sating gear

A man may put pretense away

Who leans upon a stick

May sing and sing until he drop

Whether to maid or hag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag

Come let me sing into your ear

Those dancing days are gone

All that silk and sating gear

Crouch upon a stone

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag

I carry the sun in a golden cup

The moon in a silver bag