Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Toi, tu me plais, artist - Julien Clerc. Album song Utile, in the genre Эстрада
Date of issue: 07.12.1992
Record label: Parlophone France
Song language: French
Toi, tu me plais(original) |
Elle a pris ses enfants |
Et elle les a noyés |
C'était seulment |
Des carrés de papier |
Cent-vingt pages déchirées |
Qui allaient se baigner |
Juste là où la Seine |
Embrasse Aubervilliers |
Du haut du pont de fer |
Elle les a vus flotter |
S’en aller vers la mer |
Nourrir les naufragés |
Un tout petit roman |
Qui disait sans mentir |
Qu’on peut tout inventer |
Même ses souvenirs |
Ça s’appelait: |
«Toi, tu me plais» |
On lui avait dit: Non |
Qu’il faudrait travailler |
En faire un peu plus long |
En soignant les effets |
D’autres qui n’avaient pas lu |
Lui avaient écrit: |
Ceci ne rentre pas |
Dans nos catégories |
D’autres, encore plus polis |
Lui avaient proposé |
De travailler l’histoire |
À quatre mains croisées |
Comme on dirait aux femmes |
Aux Indiens, aux enfants: |
«Tout ça n’est pas sérieux |
Couchez-vous maintenant.» |
Elle a pris son enfant |
Et elle l’a noyé |
C'était son manuscrit |
Qu’elle avait déchiré |
Il était moins de six heures |
Le soleil souriait |
Le monde et le bonheur |
Quelque part l’attendaient |
Ça s’appelait: |
«Toi, tu me plais» |
(translation) |
She took her children |
And she drowned them |
It was only |
squares of paper |
One hundred and twenty torn pages |
Who were going to bathe |
Just where the Seine |
Kiss Aubervilliers |
From the top of the iron bridge |
She saw them floating |
Go to the sea |
Feed the castaways |
A tiny novel |
Who said without lying |
We can invent everything |
Even his memories |
It was called: |
"I like you" |
He was told: No |
That should work |
Make it a little longer |
By healing the effects |
Others who haven't read |
had written to him: |
This does not fit |
In our categories |
Others, even more polite |
had offered him |
To work the story |
With four crossed hands |
As they say to women |
To the Indians, to the children: |
"All this is not serious |
Go to bed now.” |
She took her child |
And she drowned him |
It was his manuscript |
That she had torn |
It was past six |
The sun was smiling |
The World and Happiness |
Somewhere were waiting for him |
It was called: |
"I like you" |