T'as l'air d'une chanson [English translation]

With simple words

And your heavy air

With words of love

Which you don't always understand

You've the air of a (love) song

Which is sung at home

There are days on which you know

You are not a success

There are days on which your father

Isn't exactly Prévert*

But you've the air of a song

Which is sung in a group of boys

My woman, la la la la la la..

My woman, la la la la la la..

It's been ages since

I have you in my head

You're not 'La Madelon'*

But you've the air of a song

Which had fit well to other wars

In those where I was the opponent..

Well, though there were crises

In despite of my many escapes

Like the time of the cherries

You turned back to fashion

You've the air of a song

Played on his violin..

My woman, la la la la la la..

My woman, la la la la la la..

You were made of what?

Four pinches of chalk

Two-Third breezes of joy

And many drafts

And you are telling what?

A story which I like..

If I'm not always

There, in all those verses

I'll be back in the chorus

And I'm called love

You were made of what?

You were made of me..

My woman, la la la la la la..

My woman, la la la la la la..

There are days on which you know

You are not a success

There are days on which your father

Isn't exactly Prévert

But you are the song

Which must not end..

I play you for a long time

I often fool myself

Because for so many times

I got to know you through heart

I'm still afraid

That I can't withhold you..

My woman, la la la la la la..

My woman, la la la la la la..