But was it only the cold?

Hi! My Irish experience is over, but I will still share things here, as long as I have things to share, I guess :)

This evening, I got the idea to translate one of my very old poems, found almost by chance in one of my old blogs - whatever.
I tried not to do "word by word" and I managed to adapt with English turns of phrase.
You might tell me what you think after :)


But was it only the cold ?


When I looked up,
You were lain down in front of me,
Your scruff resting on a rock,
Blood flowing out of it,
I came near you,
My body was trembling because of the cold.

But was it only the cold?

I wished I could have listened your heart beatting
Which still had to beat.
I wished I could have told you "I love you" before your last breath,
I wished you had never given your last breath,
I wished I could have died in your place.

I told myself:
You must be brave,
You must be strong;
But I had so much difficulties to tell myself
That you had been swept away by the death.

Seeing you were died in front of me,
I took a few steps back,
A lump in my tighten throat
My voice getting broken,
Going hoarse because of the cold.

But was it only the cold?

Or was it because I'd tried to wake you up,
Yelling out your name,
So many times?

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And here is the French original version.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mais n'était-ce que le froid ?

Quand j'ai relevé la tête,
Tu étais étendue devant moi,
Ta nuque reposait sur un rocher,
Le sang en coulait déjà,
Je me suis approché de toi,
Mon corps tremblait à cause du froid.

Mais n'était-ce que le froid ?

J'aurais voulu écouter ton coeur qui bat,
Qui aurait dû battre encore.
J'aurais voulu te dire "Je t'aime" avant que tu ne rendes ton dernier souffle,
J'aurais voulu que tu ne rendes jamais ton dernier souffle,
J'aurais voulu mourir à ta place.

Je me suis dit :
Tu dois être brave,
Tu dois être fort ;
Mais j'avais tellement de mal à me dire
Que tu avais été emportée par la mort.

Voyant que tu étais morte devant moi,
J'ai reculé de quelques pas,
La gorge serrée, nouée,
J'avais la voix brisée,
J'étais enroué à cause du froid.

Mais n'était-ce que le froid ?

Ou était-ce parce que j'avais tenté de te réveiller,
En hurlant ton nom,
Tant de fois ?