It's raining in torrents and it's already late
The Paris night resounds with footsteps
I'm dry at the end of the ballast that has fallen into the local void
The hand holding a flute emptied
Portrait of a teacher in a wall niche
It is raining in torrents under the dull lighting
Footsteps ring out in Paris at night
The shadows of the wine redden the face
We play this corny melody gently
A strange man - he has stopped
A beige coat - he is on the steps
In the wall niche he there is a portrait:
Smiling look of Pierre J.Proudhon

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