La Station - Jeanne Cherhal
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La Station - Jeanne Cherhal

Альбом
Douze fois par an
Год
2004
Язык
`French`
Длительность
420010

Below is the lyrics of the song La Station , artist - Jeanne Cherhal with translation

Lyrics " La Station "

Original text with translation

La Station

Jeanne Cherhal

Оригинальный текст

Comme j’aimais le dimanche,

Quand dans la R9 blanche

De papa nous allions visiter la station.

En famille on partait,

Mais jamais il n’avouait

Que c'?

Tait la station

La vraie destination.

Pour ce genre d’aventure

Il faut une couverture,

Une balade officielle

Un peu plus consensuelle.

Un but p?

Dagogique,

Un pr?

Texte classique.

Une simple sortie de fin d’apr?

S-midi.

Marcher en contournant l’hippodrome ou l'?

Tang,

Dire bonjour?

Grand-p?

Re dans l’all?

E du cimeti?

Re.

Alors on y allait comme si de rien n'?

Tait,

Et puis sur le retour on faisait le d?

Tour.

Mieux que le vent d'?

T?,

Que les embruns sal?

S,

Mieux que l’herbe coup?

E,

O effluve ador?

De la station d'?

Puration.

Pour v?

Rifier une vanne,

Pour constater une panne

Ou par pure pr?

Caution,

Tout mobile?

Tait bon

M?

Me apr?

S dix-neuf heures.

M?

Me le jour du seigneur,

Aller?

La station c'?

Tait sa d?

Votion.

Alors je jubilais.

Car avec lui, j’entrais

Dans l’inqui?

Tant palais

Don’t il avait les clefs.

Devant les eaux stagnantes

Je me sentais vivante,

Dans l’odeur de moisi

Je me trouvais jolie.

Je n’allais pas, enfant,

Regarder l’oc?

An Pour dans l’azur me perdre,

Mais au bord de la merde.

Et sachez qu’en hiver,

Inhaler au grand air

Le ventre de la terre,

On dirait du Baudelaire.

Mieux que le vent d'?

T?,

Que les embruns sal?

S,

Mieux que l’herbe coup?

E,

O effluve ador?

De la station d'?

Puration.

Depuis ces heureux jours,

Je nourris un amour

Pur et immod?

Are?

Pour les?

Viers bouch?

S,

Les restes de savon

Qui engluent les siphons,

Les cheveux par poign?

Es Qui obstruent les bidets.

J’ai acquis la passion

Des canalisations.

Rien?

Mon coeur ne vaut

La vue d’un ch?

Teau d’eau.

Quand d’autres ont le d?

Go?

T Des remont?

Es d'?

Gouts,

Je n’aime rien tant que

Leur doux parfum aqueux.

Qu’un lavabo douteux

Se pr?

Sente?

Mes yeux,

Qu’une baignoire inonde

Le sol d’une eau immonde,

J’ai la ventouse au poing

Et la technique au point.

Intens?

Ment, j’aspire.

On dirait du Shakespeare.

Mieux que le vent d'?

T?,

Que les embruns sal?

S,

Mieux que l’herbe coup?

E,

O effluve ador?

De la station d'?

Puration.

Перевод песни

How I loved Sundays,

When in the white R9

From dad we were going to visit the station.

As a family we were leaving,

But he never confessed

That C'?

Shut up the station

The real destination.

For that kind of adventure

Need a cover,

An official walk

A little more consensual.

A goal p?

Dagogic,

A PR?

Classic text.

Just a late afternoon outing?

S-noon.

Walk around the hippodrome or the?

Tang,

Say hi?

Large P?

Re in the all?

E from the cemetery?

D.

So we just go like it's nothing?

Tait,

And then on the way back we did the d?

Round.

Better than the wind of?

You,

What salt spray?

S,

Better than blow grass?

E,

O effluvium ador?

From the station?

Purge.

For V?

Rify a valve,

To find a failure

Or by pure pr?

Bail,

All mobile?

Be good

M?

Me after?

S seven o'clock.

M?

Me on the day of the lord,

To go?

The station it?

Tait sa d?

Vote.

So I was jubilant.

Because with him, I entered

In the worry?

So many palaces

Of which he had the keys.

In front of stagnant waters

I felt alive,

In the musty smell

I thought I was pretty.

I was not going, child,

Watch the oc?

An To lose myself in the azure,

But on the brink of shit.

And know that in winter,

Inhale in the open air

The belly of the earth,

Sounds like Baudelaire.

Better than the wind of?

You,

What salt spray?

S,

Better than blow grass?

E,

O effluvium ador?

From the station?

Purge.

Since those happy days

I feed a love

Pure and immod?

Are?

For the?

Viers mouth?

S,

Leftover soap

Which stick up the siphons,

Hair by hand?

Are Which clog the bidets.

I acquired the passion

Pipelines.

Nothing?

My heart is not worth

The view of a ch?

Water bottle.

When others have the d?

Go?

T Des remont?

Are from?

Tastes,

I love nothing so much

Their sweet watery scent.

Than a dodgy sink

Is PR?

Feel?

My eyes,

That a bathtub floods

The soil of foul water,

I have the suction cup in my fist

And the technique to the point.

Intense?

Lie, I aspire.

Sounds like Shakespeare.

Better than the wind of?

You,

What salt spray?

S,

Better than blow grass?

E,

O effluvium ador?

From the station?

Purge.

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