La chanson triste [English translation]

When sorrow knocks on your closed door

Give it fire for the love of God

If your flame is dead and everything rests

She will go there, I didn't do better

If your flame is dead and everything rests

She will go there, I didn't do better

The flowers of my life were white roses

I gave them to all of my friends

To pick them between four boards

I would have done better in the bloom of my life

To pick them between four boards

I would have done better in the bloom of my life

I had clothes carved out of clouds

I had hair like flags

and my hair floated in de wind

When I lost everything the skin remained

and my hair floated in de wind

When I lost everything the skin remained

I went under ten feet of clay

stuck, nose to nose, to a sky of wood

and saying my verses to my docile verses

who will rhyme me different then me

and saying my verses to my docile verses

who will rhyme me different then me

When sorrow knocks on your closed door

Give it fire for the love of God

and embrace the last rose

that I will pluck between two farewells

and embrace the last rose

that I will pluck between two farewells

When sorrow knocks on your closed door

Give it fire for the love of God

and embrace the last rose

that I will pluck to bid farewell

and send away the last rose

that I will pluck to bid farewell