La chanson des vieux amants

THE SONG OF THE OLD LOVERS

Of course we had storms,* twenty years of love
Is mad love.
A thousand times you took your luggage, a thousand times I took my flight,
And every piece of furniture remembers, in this bedroom without a cradle,
Of the old storms* bursts,
Nothing looked like nothing, you'd lost the taste for water and I the one for conquest.

But [Oh], my love, my sweet, my tender,
My wonderful love, from the clear dawn
Till the end of the day, I love you still, you know, I love you.

I know all your spells, you know all my bewitchments,
You kept me from trap to trap, I lost you now and again,
Of course, you took some lovers, you had to spend time,
The body needs to exult,
Finally, finally, we needed much talent
To be old without being adults. Oh my love…

And the more times accompanies us, the more time torments us,
But isn't the worst trap for lovers to live in peace.
Of course you weep a little less early, I tear myself a little later,
We protect our mysteries less,
We allow less the chance to have its way, we mistrust the passing of time,
But it's still the tender war. Oh my love…

Translator note:
* I translated both words "orages" and "tempêtes" by "storm" but I'd better explain the difference between the two: an "orage" is a rain and thunder/lightning storm, "tempête" is mostly used about sea storms with very strong winds and a raging sea, though it can be used about dry land but in this case it's extremely violent. So maybe "tempests" for "tempêtes"?