I live at the corner of old montmartre
my father returns drunk every night
and the four of us are fed (And in order to feed us)
My poor mother works at the washhouse
I am sick, I dream through my window
I look pass people moreover (I watch the people pass)
when the day comes to vanish
there are things that brought me a little fear (This is Ok but should be in present tense)
in my street there are people who take a walk
I hear their whispers in the night
when I’m sent to sleep nourished by the corny old tunes (bercee=rocked to sleep, soothed)
I am suddenly waken from the cries
the final whistle, to stop those lurking, who go and come (Blows on whistles, lingering footsteps, which comme and go)
then the silence that makes me cold in every heart
in my street there are ghosts who take a walk
and I shake and I am cold and I am afraid
my father he tells me one day: “ daughter,
you will not stay here without an end (OR forvever)
you are good at nothing, this is familly (You're good for nothing, it's a family trait)
it’s a mistake to see at earning enough for your bread (You ought to try to find a way to...)
the men find you rather pretty
you go out at night (You'd only have to go out [to work] at night)
there are good women who acquire their lives (earn their living)
in “ dangling themselves over the sidewalk” (swaying their hips)
in my street there are women who take a walk
I hear them sing softly in the night
when I’m sent to sleep nourished by the corny old tunes
I am suddenly am waken from the cries
the final whistle, to stop those lurking, who go and come
then the silence that makes me cold in all the hearts (my whole heart)
in my street there are women who take a walk
and I shake and I’m cold and I’m afraid
and after weaks and the weak (And now it's already been weeks and weeks that)
I have more home,I have more money (no longer a home, money)
I know the others (I don't know how the others go about it, manage it)
but I didn’t try looking for clinets (I couldn't find any)
I asked all people who passed by for charity
a piece of bread, a little bit of warmth
I had however not much of boldness
now it is me who fears them (I make them afraid)
in my street all nights I go for a walk
they hear me sob in the night
when the wind drops from the heavens it's corny old tune
all my body is ice for the rain
but I can’t anymore, I waited ceaselessly (for the good god to come)
an invitation to be warmed all near him
in my street there are angles who took me (are taking me away)
for always my nightmares are finished!