Le facteur [English translation]

The young postman is dead.

He was only seventeen.

Love cannot travel anymore,

it has lost its messenger.

It's him who came every day,

arms full of my loving words.

It's him who held in his hands

the flower of love picked from your garden.

He soared into the blue sky

like a bird, free and happy at last,

and when his soul left him

a nightingale sang somewhere.

I love you just as much as I did,

but now I can't say it anymore.

He took with him

the last words I had written to you.

He will no longer walk these paths

bordered with rose and jasmine

leading to your house.

Love cannot travel anymore,

it has lost its messenger,

and my heart feels like in jail.

He went away, the teenager

who brought my joys and torments to you.

Winter killed spring,

it's all over for us now.