Eponine: Do not fret, Monsieur Marius,
Just a small crying of blood
The last sorrow of rain,
In the colors of death,
The stifles the sounds of the outside world,
The last sorrow of rain
The final throes of life,
Of the heart who did not help anyone
Marius: But you will live, 'Ponine, look at me!
If only love can close your wounds!
Eponine: Even love cannot do anything for me,
Hold me in your arms,
It is nothing, no, do not fret,
Just small crying of blood,
The last sorrows of rain,
With the colors of night,
That will soon reunite us,
The final sorrows of rain,
The final throes of life,
Of the heart who did not help anyone.
It is not I who will depart, you will stay here,
And like at night, I will be absent,
Here is the letter, my present,
Several months in advance.
It is nothing, no, it is nothing,
Just a small crying of blood,
The final sorrows of rain,
In the colors of night.
That will soon reunite us,
The final sorrows of rain,
The last throes of life,
Of the heart which did not serve anyone.