Ferraille [English translation]

What use are they to me,

My hydrangeas, my primroses, my long ivy vines?

What can I do about it?

I leave them there, to rust on the ground...

What's left?

A bit of pistil, my rose petals,

aren't very many things, your love...

what do you want me to do about it...

I left flowers aplenty,

to wilt away on a scrap metal heart, it makes the flowers age badly...

I left flowers aplenty,

to wilt away on a scrap metal heart, it makes the flowers age badly...

What use are they to me,

My hydrangeas, my primroses, my long ivy vines?

What can I do about it?

I leave them there, to rust on the ground...

I left flowers aplenty,

to wilt away on a scrap metal heart, it makes the flowers age badly...

I left flowers aplenty,

to wilt away on a scrap metal heart, it makes the flowers age badly...

And your heart in a saddlebag, what do you want me to do about it?