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Night Night Song From Mamya♥

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Mamyalynne | 21:59 Tue 27th Jul 2021 | ChatterBank
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Hi all ..... ♥♥♥

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Hi Jim x
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I'll see your 80s cheese and raise you some even more 80s cheese!

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Nowt wrong with a bit o cheese...

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The great Jim Croce who left too soon.

Completely agree! The man was a genius!

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A bit more cheese to round off the night.

Thanks all, sleep well ♥

Guess who? .. mmmm!

^^ I wish I had the English translation of that.
^^^ 'Baptiste' actor by the way!
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Lovely Eleanor x
Les furies du monde ne l'atteigne pas
Elle a de la musique au bout des doigts
Des mélancolies fleuries dans la tête
Près d'elle mon coeur bat
Et rien ne l'arrête, rien ne l'arrête
Elle glisse sous les colères des fonds
Elle est comme une liane qui s'enroule
Aux arbres des boulevards du Midi, et près de moi
Elle pousse ??? une nuit pour ??? une nuit

Elle se balance devant mes yeux
A quoi je pense à tout va mieux
Quand elle me balance des aveux tout dire
Elle se balance devant mes yeux
A quoi je pense à tout va mieux
Quand elle me balance des aveux rien dire
Elle se balance...

Elle se balance, métronome humaine
Elle balade des mesures de mon secret
Ne rien lui dire pouvoir tout lui dire
Et surtout ne pas la laisser mourir
Ne pas la laisser mourir

De ces oiseaux que les saisons emportent
Il reste une plume au bas d'une porte
Ceuillant celle que laissera un soir au fond d'un trou
J'écrirai sa mémoire, j'écrirai sa mémoire


The furies of the world cannot reach her
She has music at her fingertips
Flowery melancholy in her head
My heart beats close to her
And nothing stops her, nothing stops her
She slides under the anger of the depths
She is like a vine which creeps
On the trees of the boulevards of the Midi, and close to me
She pushes ??? a night for ??? a night

She swings before my eyes
What I think about everything is better
When she gives me a confession which says everything
She swings before my eyes
What I think about everything is better
When she gives me a confession which says nothing
She swings...

She swings, a human metronome
She strides over my secret
Telling her nothing is like telling her everything
And, most of all, not to let her die
Not to let her die

Of those birds that the seasons take away
There's a feather left at the bottom of a door
Hiding the one that will leave one evening at the bottom of a hole
I will write her memory, I will write her memory
Ha! Thanks Jim! Now can you translate that ;0)
A lover passed away perhaps?
No idea. Seems to be deep and meaningless, totally in keeping with the majority of French ballads.
Ha ha! Thanks anyway.

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Night Night Song From Mamya♥

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