Entre Moi Et Mon Amin [English translation]

My love and I alone

In a wood near Bethune,

Played together on Tuesday

All night there by the moon,

Until the night turned gray

And the lark arising, sang,

As if to say: "Lovers, away";

And he responded softly:

"So help me love,

The lark lies to us.

It isn't nearly day,

Sweet, noble heart."

"So help me love,

The lark lies to us.

It isn't nearly day,

Sweet, noble heart."

Then he drew himself to me,

And I did not draw back;

Three times at least he kissed me,

And I returned them back;

Now that did not tire me.

Then how glad we should have been

Had that night lasted a century

But we would not need say:

"So help me love,

The lark lies to us.

It isn't nearly day,

Sweet, noble heart."

"So help me love,

The lark lies to us.

It isn't nearly day,

Sweet, noble heart."