La complainte de la Butte [English translation]

High up St-Vincent street

he a poet and she a stranger

were loving one another for the duration of a moment

but he didn't see her ever again

He composed this song

hoping that his stranger

will hear it one springtime morning

somewhere on a street corner

So pallid a moon

places a crown

on your red hair

So ruby a moon

with glory splashes onto

your battered petticoat

So pale a moon

caresses the opal

of your listless eyes

Princess of the street

may I welcome you

in my wounded heart

The stairs of Montmartre1

are cruel to the have-nots

The windmill2 sails

protect the lovers

Little pauper

I feel your girly hand

reaching out for my hand

I feel your breast

and your slender waist

I forget my mourning

I feel on your lips

the feverish smell

of an underfed nipper

And under your caress

I feel an intoxication

which destroys me

The stairs of Monmartre

are cruel to the have-nots

The windmill sails

protect the lovers

But look here it's pouring

the moon's running off

the princess too

Under the moonless sky

I'm crying in the twilight

my dream has ran away

1. Montmartre is also called in french Montmartre Hill (la Butte Montmartre)2. Formerly Montmartre was covered with windmills but today only two survive