Paris Bohemian
Brightens what is gray
From a time past by
Where in a attic with a can-can suit
You posed for me and with devotion I painted with passion
Your tired body
Until dawn, sometimes without eating and always without sleeping
Bohemian, Bohemian
You were love, happiness
Bohemian, Bohemian
It was a flower of our age
Under an awning
The coffee table, happily united us
Talking incessantly
Dreaming of arriving
Of getting the glory
And when a painter found a buyer
And a canvas sold
We used to shout, run and walk joyfully in Paris
Bohemian, Bohemian
It was swearing that I loved you
bohemian, bohemian
I, next to you, winning for him
We had health, smile, youth and nothing in our pockets
With cold with heat, the same good mood
Our being danced fighting just the same
Hungry to the end
We made castles, and the longing to live
He made us resist and not fail
bohemian, bohemian
It was seeing and beginning the day
The bohemian, the bohemian
I was dreaming of loving
I went back to Paris
I crossed its gray mist
And I found it changed
The lilacs were no longer
They do not go up to the attic
Withered of passion
Dreaming like yesterday
I searched for my workshop
But they have torn it down
And they have replaced it with
A cafe-bar below and boarding house above
bohemian, bohemian
That I lived, was only lost
bohemian, bohemian
It was a flower and finally it died ...