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La lune trop blême, pose un diadème, sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse, de gloire éclabousse, ton jupon plein d'trous
La lune trop pâle, caresse l'opale, de tes yeux blasés
Princesse de la rue, soit la bienvenue dans mon coeur brisé
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh,
While windmill wings of the moulin shelter you and I
Ma p'tite mandigote, je sens ta menotte qui cherche ma main
Je sens ta poitrine, et ta taille fine, j'oublie mon chagrin
Je sens sur tes lèvres une odeur de fièvre
De gosse mal nourri et sous ta caresse je sens une ivresse qui m'anéantit
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh,
While windmill wings of the moulin shelter you and I
Mais voilà qu'elle trotte, la lune se flotte
La princesse aussi, mon rêve évanoui
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux miséreux,
Les ailes des moulins protégent les amoureux |
The moon, all too fair, places a halo upon your red hair
The moon, all too red with glory, splashes your skirt full of holes
The moon, all too pale, caresses the opal of your blasé eyes
Princess of the street welcome in my broken heart
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulin shelter you and I
Little beggar, I feel your shackled hands search for my hand
I feel your breasts and your narrow waist, I forget my chagrin
I feel on your lips the smell of fever of a starving child
And under your caress I feel a drunkenness that destroys me
The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the Moulin shelter you and I
And over there she scampers, the moon drifts away
The princess as well, my dreams blossom
The steps of la butte are hard on the miserable
The wings of the windmill protect those in love
Thanks to Kaerenn for her help in writing out lyrics and translation |
- This song contains an English chorus, while "Moulin Rouge" is entirely in French
- Music by Georges Van Parys; lyrics by Jean Renoir
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