Peut-on jamais savoir par où commence et quand finit l’indifférence?
Passe l’automne, vienne l’hiver, et que la chanson de Prévert.
Cette chanson, les feuilles mortes s’efface de mon souvenir.
Et ce jour-là, les amours mortes en auront fini de mourir.
Serge Gainsbourg – La chanson de Prevert https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Zc5B8lso1o
Oh if I could just remember That song you sang with voice so tender I'd prefered I think as far That song by Prevert and Cosma And every day, The dried leaves' whispers Wake up memory which says That each my day I cannot dispel The curse of my dying love affairs And I can still look At some new love prospects But their songs are lacking context And I slowly get fed up With their meaning’s hopeless lack Cause every day, The dried leaves' whispers Wake up memory which says That each my day I cannot dispel The curse of my dying love affairs Is there ever hope For still some meaning Which gets me back To the beggining Autumn passes, winter at the gate So fades in my mind song of Prevert That is the song Of dried leaves' whispers Wake up memory which says That still one day It’ll help to dispell The curse of my dying love affairs. That still one day It’ll help to dispel The curse of my dying love affairs.