Le vieux café de la rue d'Amérique [English translation]

The neon party is ending

And the city falls asleep

And people stay alone.

They come back home in the dark

As they do every evening

Without knowing what they want.

But the old city

Is here like an island

With its lopsided pavement

And night is coming alive

In a music flow

Which comes from an ajar pub.

[Refrain]

The old Café of America Street

In the middle of an iron city

The old Café looks wonderful

Painted of red, with green on the shutters.

The boss looks like Brassens

You must see him when he washes

The glasses while he sings.

It seems that you are coming

Just to chat as good friends

That you're his only customer

And for a woman

It's not a drama

To come even after midnight.

The fat florist

Or the mechanic,

Those who are here are friends.

[Refrain]

With its falling bar,

The noises made by balls

of the billiard players,

There is no gadget,

But you will incur debts

And you will pay later.

I will fly to the moon

Or maybe to Saturn,

Someday, to walk my children,

I will go without sadness

Provided that you let me

The corner where my heart is happy.

[Refrain x2]