En veston jaune [English translation]

When Decembers snow

was falling onto the cottages,

what tales, what fables,

my grandfather used to tell us.

He knew the thousand stories

that make their way around the world,

the nicest was the picture

that sang of a great love.

It's from the heart of a gentle poet

that it was borne one morning,

here it is, tender and innocent,

as fresh as it was before:

In a yellow jacket and periwinkle blue trousers,

he used to come on Sunday in his horse-drawn carriage;

in the high street, pink and white, waiting for him

was Miss Isabelle, his love.

Trotting along without too much zeal

the mare made them happy.

sheltered under a parasol,

their hearts were beating in step.

~ ~ ~

When 20 years old, like so many others,

he had to leave his Isabelle,

swearing to his love

to remain faithful to her always.

every day he picked for her

the prettiest fresh flowers

which he threw into the river

that came by the dear country.

And the flowers of that poet,

sailing along with the river

brought to Isabelle

the best message:

In a yellow jacked and periwinkle blue trousers

in his horse-draw cariage he will come on Sunday;

In the high street she will wait for him, pink and white,

Miss Isabel, his love.

Trotting along without too much zeal

the mare will make them happy,

sheltered under a parasol,

their hearts will beat in step.

And later, at the chapel,

a priest will bless their love.

This story is eternal,

sing it in your turn.

Trotting along without too much zeal

the mare will make them happy.

Sheltered under a parasol,

their hearts beat in step.