Salut à tous!
Une chanson qui, en ce jour de Saint-Valentin, bercera ou déprimera, c'est selon.
Charles Aznavour, She
She
May be the face I can't forget,
A trace of pleasure or regret,
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay;
She may be the song that Solomon sings,
May be the chill that autumn brings,
May be a hundred tearful things
Within the measure of the day.
She
May be the beauty or the beast,
May be the famine or the feast,
May turn each day into heaven or a hell;
She may be the mirror of my dream,
A smile reflected in a stream,
She may not be what she may seem inside, a shell.
She
Who always seems so happy to crow,
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,
No one's allowed to see them when they cry;
She may be the love that can and hope to last,
May come to me from shadows of the past,
That I remember till the day I die.
She
May be the reason I survive,
The why and where for I'm alive,
The one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years;
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs,
For where she goes I got to be,
The meaning of my life is
She, she, she
Une chanson qui, en ce jour de Saint-Valentin, bercera ou déprimera, c'est selon.
Charles Aznavour, She
She
May be the face I can't forget,
A trace of pleasure or regret,
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay;
She may be the song that Solomon sings,
May be the chill that autumn brings,
May be a hundred tearful things
Within the measure of the day.
She
May be the beauty or the beast,
May be the famine or the feast,
May turn each day into heaven or a hell;
She may be the mirror of my dream,
A smile reflected in a stream,
She may not be what she may seem inside, a shell.
She
Who always seems so happy to crow,
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,
No one's allowed to see them when they cry;
She may be the love that can and hope to last,
May come to me from shadows of the past,
That I remember till the day I die.
She
May be the reason I survive,
The why and where for I'm alive,
The one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years;
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs,
For where she goes I got to be,
The meaning of my life is
She, she, she
(
