Mon truc en plumes [English translation]

My thing made of feathers,

Bird feathers,

Animal feathers,

My thing made of feathers,

That's very clever,

Nothing in the hands,

It's all in the hip thrust.

Oh yeah

My thing made of feathers,

Just by passing by,

It whips up the blood,

My thing made of feathers,

It strokes you,

In euphoria,

All in finesse.

I, I live from my pen,

And I pluck

The concrete

And it is in the moonlight

That I light the Pierrots1.

Oh yeah

My thing made of feathers,

Panther feathers,

Belonging to billionaires.

My thing made of feathers,

It makes you dream,

But it is sacred,

You must not touch it.

Oh yeah

My thing made of feathers,

Come in, my brigand,

Sleep inside.

Oh yeah

It's not rocket science,

Come and try it,

I'll make you dance.

1. This is a reference to a French nursery rhyme called "Au Clair de la Lune".