Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Le Bourreau, artist - Barbara. Album song Amours Incestueuses, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.2006
Record label: Mercury
Song language: French
Le Bourreau(original) |
Tendu de crêpe, au crépuscule |
Flanqué d’un grand noir majuscule |
Au zénith profond de minuit |
Il avance dedans la nuit |
Le bourreau, le bourreau |
Moi, je le nargue lentement |
Comme un jour d’hiver au printemps |
Comme la toute dernière gelée |
Sur l’avant-garde de l'été |
Ce bourreau, ce bourreau |
Car moi je vis, comme un printemps |
Qui en sait peu, qui ne sait pas |
Car moi je vis, comme un éclat |
De feu d’amour en feu de joie |
Et tant pis si, de temps en temps |
Il neige un peu sur mes printemps |
Je sais bien que, certains matins |
Il y a des fleurs de chagrin |
Flanqué de son grand M majuscule |
Tendu de crêpe au crépuscule |
Au zénith profond de mes nuits |
Il avance dedans ma vie |
Le bourreau, le bourreau |
Il connaît très bien son chemin |
Tous les chiens lui lèchent la main |
Il connaît très bien son chemin |
Tous les chiens lui lèchent la main |
Au bourreau, au bourreau |
Mais moi je vis, comme un printemps |
Qui sait très bien, qui prends son temps |
Mais je vis en attendant |
Le temps qu’il me reste de temps |
Et bien sûr, que de temps en temps |
Il a neigé sur mes printemps |
Mais je n’ai pas, dans mon jardin |
Que des fleurs couleur de chagrin |
Quand se pose le crépuscule |
Vêtue d’un grand noir majuscule |
Gantée d’un velours noir qui luit |
Moi, je m’en vais vivre ma vie |
Sans bourreau, sans bourreau |
Tout en le narguant lentement |
J’aurais cueilli tous mes printemps |
J’aurais vécu d’avoir aimé |
J’aurais tout pris, tout partagé |
Sans bourreau, sans bourreau |
Il peut venir au crépuscule |
Flanqué de son M majuscule |
Au dernier souffle de ma vie |
Il ne prendra qu’un corps sans vie |
Il ne prendra qu’un corps sans vie |
Le bourreau, le bourreau, le bourreau… |
(translation) |
Tend de crepe, at dusk |
Flanked by a large black capital letter |
At the deep zenith of midnight |
He walks in the night |
The executioner, the executioner |
Me, I taunt him slowly |
Like a winter day in spring |
Like the very last jelly |
On the vanguard of summer |
This executioner, this executioner |
'Cause I live, like a spring |
Who knows little, who does not know |
'Cause I live, like a shard |
From fire of love to fire of joy |
And too bad if, from time to time |
It's snowing a little on my springs |
I know that some mornings |
There are flowers of sorrow |
Flanked by his capital M |
Twilight crepe tense |
At the deep zenith of my nights |
He walks through my life |
The executioner, the executioner |
He knows his way very well |
All the dogs lick her hand |
He knows his way very well |
All the dogs lick her hand |
To the executioner, to the executioner |
But I live, like a spring |
Who knows very well, who takes his time |
But I live waiting |
The time I have left |
And of course, that once in a while |
It snowed on my springs |
But I don't have, in my garden |
Only sorrow-colored flowers |
When twilight lands |
Dressed in a large black capital letter |
Gloved in shiny black velvet |
Me, I'm going to live my life |
Without executioner, without executioner |
While taunting him slowly |
I would have picked all my springs |
I would have lived to have loved |
I would have taken everything, shared everything |
Without executioner, without executioner |
He may come at dusk |
Flanked by his capital M |
At the last breath of my life |
It will only take a lifeless body |
It will only take a lifeless body |
The executioner, the executioner, the executioner... |