In the shadowed streets of Paris,
Where echoes of past lives softly tread,
Silent whispers of history linger,
Amidst the cobblestones, where dreams are led.

Beneath the arches of ancient cathedrals,
The solemn chimes of distant bells ring,
A requiem for souls departed,
In their eternal, peaceful slumbering.

The Seine flows gently, a river of time,
Carrying secrets of those who’ve passed,
Its waters murmur tales of love and loss,
In the quiet night, those stories are cast.

Yet in this dance of life and death,
There’s a grace that death cannot defy,
For even in its final breath,
The spirit of France will never die.