I listen to Edith, on a phonograph
By chance a mono disc
The song is by Marguerite...
Who hasn't known Gémini
Neither the Minets, nor the mini-
Skirts or brains that we are given
I know the song by heart
I don't see why I'm afraid
Suddenly to learn something
/>Tragic and stupid at the same time
Which didn't exist in the past
When you sang "La vie en rose".
It doesn't depend on me
You sing about the same voice
That you engraved in wax
The thing has happened since
Among the living who led you
Where we no longer burst out laughing...
How can this moment of salvation
With two choruses that I liked
Could it throw this trouble into me
Which leaves me distraught
As if I had compared
Pommard with Chirouble...
Edith, the children only have an image of you
Sometimes held
Intermediate myopes...
And they will never know again
What it is to have lost
His light in your light...
Than to have held your hand
Or the heart a part of the way
To have touched your dream...
They will only hear the echoes
Distorted of all the banks
Of your too brief existence. ..
We are free being an idiot
To improve our picotin
With the other side of the coin...
Everyone manages their own way,
Remember from Reims, from Soissons
And the circus at your funeral...
We force a little more simply
We sell our dad, our mom
With more or less skills
br/>We have people around us
It is not always with joy
That we lack rectitude.
Happy are those who have shone
Edith, in your waking dream
It's a wonderful story
When you have nothing but once
Had the right to place your arm
On the silk of your black dress ...
You didn't know Gémini
Neither the twinks nor the mini-
Skirts or brains that we are given
But you sing on my phonograph
By chance a mono disc...
The song is by Marguerite.

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