In Paris
When a love flowers
It's like, for weeks,
Two hearts smiling at each other
Just because they love each other
In Paris
In spring
On the rooves, the weathercocks
Spin and flirt
With the first wind
That's passing by, indifferent
Nonchalant
For the wind
When coming to Paris
Has but one concern left
It is to dawdle around
In the uptown
Of Paris
The sun
Which is his old friend
Also takes part in the feast
And, like two schoolboys,
They go on a spree
In Paris
And, hand in hand,
They go without worrying,
Looking, on the way,
If Paris has changed
There are always
Taxis on the prowl
That illegally take you on
Before the parking
Where there's still the
Taxi agent
At the café,
You see anyone
Drinking anything,
Talking with his hands
Who's here since the morning,
At the café
There's the Seine
At any hour.
She has her visitors
Looking in her eyes.
These are the lovers
Of the Seine.
And there are those
Who nested
Near the bed of the Seine
And who wash at noon,
Every day of the week,
In the Seine.
And the others,
Those who are over it,
Because they saw it too much
And who want to forget.
So they take the plunge.
But the Seine,
She prefers
Seeing the nice boats
Going for a sail on her.
And with her stream
Playing caravels
On the Seine.
Troubles
Are not just in Paris.
They're all over the world.
Yes, but all over the world,
Paris isn't everywhere.
That's the trouble.
In Paris,
On July 14th,
By the paper lanterns' light,
You danse on and on
With the accordion's music,
In the streets.
Since The Bastille
Has been stormed in Paris,
In every suburb
And on every crossroads,
There are guys
And there are girls
Who, on and on,
on the cobblestones,
night and day,
Are whirling and whirling,
In Paris...