It's raining in the city
And her fishnet stockings
Are no longer of this time,
She wanders under the moon
Tightrope walker of bad weather.
She sleepwalks
In the middle of a white circle.
The sun from the street lamps illuminates the sad sphere so little
That she It's just a white mask
A halo, the face of the moon where its black eyes
Are the crows of this white sky
It's raining on the city
And its low r silles
No longer of this time,
She strolls under the moon
Tightrope walker of bad weather,
She strolls under the moon
On the sidewalk , feelings.
The sovereign whore of ancient times
Has taken on the modern appearance of the naughty whore
By the auspicious birds
At the bend of their path.
The Vestal Virgin sighs in vain in the light of the street lamp
One day, she will fly off into the distance.
It's raining on the city
And her fishnet stockings
Are no longer of this time,
Paris under the moon
Ask to see the day,
He languishes in the mist
In the early morning that runs.
Paris under the moon
Asking to see the day,
He languishes in the mist
The early morning running,
The early morning running.
Tango under the moon
Tango under the moon...

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