High up St-Vincent street
he a poet and she a stranger
were loving one another for the duration of a moment
but he didn't see her ever again
He composed this song
hoping that his stranger
will hear it one springtime morning
somewhere on a street corner
So pallid a moon
places a crown
on your red hair
So ruby a moon
with glory splashes onto
your battered petticoat
So pale a moon
caresses the opal
of your listless eyes
Princess of the street
may I welcome you
in my wounded heart
The stairs of Montmartre1
are cruel to the have-nots
The windmill2 sails
protect the lovers
Little pauper
I feel your girly hand
reaching out for my hand
I feel your breast
and your slender waist
I forget my mourning
I feel on your lips
the feverish smell
of an underfed nipper
And under your caress
I feel an intoxication
which destroys me
The stairs of Monmartre
are cruel to the have-nots
The windmill sails
protect the lovers
But look here it's pouring
the moon's running off
the princess too
Under the moonless sky
I'm crying in the twilight
my dream has ran away
1. Montmartre is also called in french Montmartre Hill (la Butte Montmartre)2. Formerly Montmartre was covered with windmills but today only two survive