Entre Saint-Ouen et Clignancourt [English translation]

I sold flowers on the terraces

When I was seventeen years old

But the wheel turns, time passes:

I've got money now.

Well! In spite of my bank account,

My car, my jewelleru,

Some days, I feel like I'm missing something.

All of a sudden, I feel blue.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt,

From time to time, I have to take a tour

of that area.

Then, I rediscover my past,

The sky so gentle, the hard pavements,

The yellow grass

And, wading in the streams,

Bands of kids, half street-urchins,

half fauns.

The smell of chips and of lilacs.

With a shiver, I rediscover all that,

In that place.

In my opinion, the people of society

Do not know how to love.

At the critical moment, they brim over

With fibs and speeches.

So those who, like me, know

What a real man is,

Say: a man, quickly,

And I catch up to myself.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt,

From time to time, I have to take a turn,

Into that area.

We go to big Leon's place,

While the accordion sings,

An old Beaune.

It's spring and it's evening.

Calm and strong, in front of the counter

Some guys are enthroned

And in the crowd, all one has to do is choose

To appease all desires

In that place.

Sometimes, even the heart gets involved

And to hear better

The voice which says "God, but you're beautiful"

One closes both eyes.

But we never saw love or clear water

Except in certain novels,

So, quickly, we paired up

Without dreaming for too long.

Between Saint-Ouen and Clignancourt

I went there again yesterday to take a tour

Of that place.

What changes I found:

A lot of things had been demolished.

What a storm. . .

More than the groves, more than the wooden shacks,

More than the songs which, were for me,

A kind of handout.

And before my destroyed memories,

All alone, I cried that night

In that place.