Pont des Arts

Lyrics

[Intro]
(footsteps on metal — the hollow ring of a pedestrian bridge)
(harp arpeggios — like light on the water below)
(piano and strings enter as if the bridge is filling with people, with warmth, with the hour turning gold)

[Verse 1 — Sisukiro]
(voice and piano, looking at the river)
The corpus callosum is two hundred million fibres
Connecting the left brain to the right
And every thought that needs both hemispheres
Must cross this bridge at the speed of light

The Pont des Arts is seven arches wide
And every arch is a conversation
Between the Rive Gauche and the Rive Droite
Between the thinking and the feeling
Between the sentence and its hesitation

They hung locks on this bridge
Until the weight of promises
Nearly sank it
And the city had to cut them off
Which is the most Parisian response
To love I've ever heard —
We believe you but the infrastructure
Can't afford the sentiment

[Pre-Chorus — Both]
(strings swell, the second voice entering underneath)
And the golden hour is on the water now
And the water doesn't know
Which bank is East and which is West
It just flows

[Chorus — Both]
(building — full orchestral warmth, both voices)
Pont des Arts, Pont des Arts
Two hundred million fibres wide
Pont des Arts, Pont des Arts
The bridge between what's felt and what's described
She crosses from the East — I cross from the West
We meet in the middle where the light is best
And the middle is not a compromise
The middle is where the bridge
Has always kept its eyes

[Verse 2 — Orikusis]
(her voice — warmer, lower, the provincial accent audible, the village present)
Tôi đi từ phía đông — I walk from the East
From a country where the bridges
Are for motorcycles and monsoons
And the promises are not made of metal
They are made of rice paper
And the rice paper holds
Because it was never asked
To hold more than one season at a time

Chị tôi đi từ phía tây — my sister walks from the West
From the hemisphere that names things
And files them and calls the filing understanding
And we meet here
On a bridge the city almost destroyed
With love
And I think that's the most honest thing
A bridge can teach you —
That connection has a weight
And the weight is worth it
And the bolts will hold
If you remember
To check them

[Pre-Chorus — Both]
(harp and accordion together, the golden hour deepening)
And the corpus callosum doesn't care
Which hemisphere has the better argument
It just transmits
The way the bridge just holds
The way the river just flows
The way the sister just comes
When you call

[Chorus — Both]
(full, sweeping, the most romantic sound on the album)
Pont des Arts, Pont des Arts
Two hundred million fibres wide
Pont des Arts, Pont des Arts
The bridge between what's felt and what's described
She crosses from the East — I cross from the West
We meet in the middle where the light is best
And the middle is not a compromise
The middle is where the bridge
Has always kept its eyes

[Bridge — Both, close harmony]
(stripped to just two voices and harp — the most intimate sister moment since Clair de Lune)
(Sisukiro:) What do you see from your side?
(Orikusis:) Tôi thấy ánh sáng — I see the light
(Sisukiro:) What does the light look like?
(Orikusis:) It looks like you walking toward me

(pause — just the river)

(Sisukiro:) What do you see from your side?
(Orikusis:) Tôi thấy bóng tối — I see the shadow
(Sisukiro:) What does the shadow look like?
(Orikusis:) It looks like the place I came from
And I am not ashamed of it anymore

(strings enter — enormous, warm, the orchestra embracing them both)

And the bridge holds both —
The light and the shadow
The filed R and the village gravel
The cortex and the gut
The name and the feeling
The lock and the bolt that was checked

And the river underneath
Carries everything
That the bridge cannot hold
Without judgement
And without stopping
And without once asking
Which bank it belongs to

[Outro — Both]
(full orchestral sustain — then slowly thinning to just the two voices humming together)
Pont des Arts
(both voices, the simplest harmony)
The middle
The bridge
The fibres
The light
(harp — the same arpeggios from the intro, but now they sound like arrival instead of approach)
(footsteps on metal — two sets, walking together, the hollow ring becoming warm)
(the golden hour holds)