Qu'il était triste cet Anglais [English translation]

It was the expected decor

In a bar on the Thames

With its' boredom spread

Like a grey smoke

Its' rustle of crinkled newspapers

Its' clinking of glasses

And the hushed murmurs

Of its' serious customers

How sad was this Englishman

On whom the hands of time had only

Softly blurred the traits

Of his face

All alone, unmoving and silent

He was drinking, standing by the bar,

One might say that he was coming back

From a long trip

When he had drunk too much, suddenly

Two tears slid from his eyes

Someone said "Look, he's drunk!"

And then some seconds passed...

Yet, as I watched him

That grasped me, grasped me

I involved the entire world

In his secret cries

For I didn't understand well

What he was saying except for this

"My beloved stayed in Paris"

Maybe he had wasted

All the adventures

Or dragged a used heart

For a hard life

Did he have a sailors' melancholy

For worlds of promises

Or was his heart completely broken

From a simple, foolish thing?

How sad was this Englishman

Whom I found again every night

Carrying the weight of his impenetrable secret

All alone, unmoving and silent

He would drink, standing by the bar

The same game would restart

At each table

Some spied on him from above

And the tears made them laugh

I heard "Look, he's drunk!"

That's all they found to say

But when I approached him

In a surprised tone he confided

"My beloved stayed in Paris,

Stayed in Paris..."

"Bartender, please, what did he say?"

And the bartender responded

"His love is in Paris...

...possibly dead..."

"My beloved stayed in Paris...

My beloved stayed in Paris...

In Paris...In Paris..."