At the top of rue St-Vincent
A poet and a stranger
Love each other for a moment
But he never saw her again
This song he composed
Hoping that his stranger
One spring morning will hear it
Somewhere on a street corner
The moon too pale
br/>Place a diadem
On your red hair
The moon too red
Of glory? Splashes
Your petticoat full of holes
The moon too p the
Caress the opal
With your jaded eyes
Princess of the street
Welcome
In my wounded heart
The stairs of the hill are hard on the poor
The wings of the mills protect lovers
Little mandigote
I feel your handcuff
Who seeks my hand
I feel your chest
And your thin waist
I forget my sorrow
I smell on your lips
A smell of fever
Of a malnourished kid
And under your caress
I feel an intoxication
Which destroys me
The stairs of the hill are hard for the poor
The wings of the windmills protect ?gentle lovers
But there you go? let it float
The moon is moving
The princess too
Under the moonless sky
Am I crying? the brunette
My dream has vanished

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