Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away
And lovers
Must I be reminded
Joy came always after pain
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
We’re face to face and hand in hand
While under the bridges
Of embrace expire
Eternal tired tidal eyes
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
Love elapses like the river
Love goes by
Poor life is indolent
And expectation always violent
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
The days and equally the weeks elapse
The past remains the past
Love remains lost
Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
transl. Donald Revell
A splendid poem, this one by Guillaume Apollinaire , which inspires Etat Libre d'Orange in the composition of this latest masterpiece.
Hope is violent , they point out.
This is a perfume, as violent as hope can be.
But what is the violence of hope like?
It is a constant, lasting violence, a worm that creeps in from within and finds us defenceless. Something that comfortably, or not, seems reachable then never arrives.
It is the sound of a never that is not pronounced, the result of this cruelty.
This perfume is a bit like that.
Sous le Pont Mirabeau , under the Pont Mirabeau, the gaze rises. The structure is strong, solid and as old as its roots. The hints of orcanox , cedar , vanilla and the greenish notes of violet gather around a faded image of the 20s, introducing strong yet light metal shapes.
While the nose searches for those smells, more intense and defined, it gets lost instead.
In the ozone and aquatic notes, the corpus delicti is lost, hidden by a light incense smoke, perfectly dosed to confuse without completely blurring.
The seduction of the sillage lies in the dialogue of sandalwood and musky notes which ensure a long and discreet persistence .
A last word for the bottle, classic Etat libre , designed by concentric waves, which seem to accompany the decadent shades of this perfume.
