Regarder les filles pleurer [English translation]

Whether they're Florentine or from Argentina

Little French girls with good manners

Whether they're from the Chinese Sea

Or from the bottom of England

Whether they've got red hair or black skin

Whether they're Indian or a one-night stand

When they've got Christ in their soul

When they're nice to take

Whether they're rich in soul or poor in spirit

From a good family or from the streets

Whether they're called Philomène or Eglantine

Whether they look like the shadow of Marilyn

When they're alone at the bar, so one could think they were nuns

Who lost their church, who've got nothing but men

To hope to encounter god

To wipe away the rain in their eyes

I, I love to watch

To watch the girls cry

That makes me happy

Whether they've got no brains

Whether they're writers, philosophers of their time

When they're worried,

When they're a little bit like me

When they're all fragile like sleeping water

When they sell their body for a few coins

When you make the rules, when they say yes to everything

When they believe that they're free, when they run

Into the arms of a smart ass, when they give themselves away

Whether they're from Byzantium or from Syracuse

From Belgrade, whether they're those who don't cry anymore

Whether they stroll under the sun of Moscow,

Whether they play the marquises of the night,

Girls ready for anything

Whether they're peasants or daughters of the minister

Desperate workers in the anthill

Whether they work in the factory, whether they're girls of the air

Whether they're just as slutty as their mothers

I, I love to watch

The girls

Cry, that makes me happy

In the city

In the country

I sneak like a murderer in the country

And with a knife I cut the smiles

On the cheeks of the princesses

I'm just a poor boy,

They call me the idiot

The one who scares the brute,

Who hurts the birds

But you shouldn't believe that, you know

I'm not bad

I just seem clumsy, I just don't know how to tell the girls, how to tell the girls

But when I see the tears falling down their cheeks

But when I see the tears falling down their cheeks

I'd like to tell them that they're beautiful

And that they must not cry for a jerk

And that they should stop being so stupid

And to always fall in love

With the one they don't need, and that I, if they wanted me

That I'd always be nice to them

But they girls don't want us to be nice, they don't like that

So I, in the city

In the country

I sneak like a murderer in the country

And with a knife I cut the smiles

On the cheeks of the princesses

When they're alone at the bar or on the pavement

Tortured by centuries of history

When you look a little closer

You can be sure

That it's them who beared

And always will bear the cross of the world

On their wings