Avec le temps [English translation]

With time, with time goes, everything goes away.

We forget the face, and we forget the voice.

The heart, when it stops beating, there's no need to look any further,

Just to let it happen, and that's fine thus.

So with time, with time goes, everything goes away;

The other we adored, the one we were looking for in the rain.

The one we guessed at the turn of a glance,

Under the words, between the lines,

And under the make-up of a disguised oath, going to end its night.

With time, everything fades away.

With time, with time goes, everything goes away.

Even the loveliest memories; look so pretty good

At the "I rummage Gallery" in the shelves of death,

On Saturday evening, when tenderness goes away on its own.

With time, with time goes, everything goes away,

The other whom we trust for a cold, for a nothing.

The one at who we were giving wind and jewelry.

For whom we'd have sold our soul for a few pennies.

In front of whom we dragged ourselves, as dogs dragged.

With time, it's okay; everything ends fine.

With time, with time goes, everything goes away.

We forget the passions, and we forget the voices

Whispering to us the words of the poor people:

"Don't come home too late. Above all, don't catch a cold."

So with time, with time goes, everything goes away.

And we feel bleached like a worn-out horse.

And we feel frozen in a bed of chance.

And maybe yes, we handle all alone, all alone but cushy.

And we feel cheated by the lost years.

So actually, with time ...we no longer love.