Hyacinthe [English translation]

He has the first name of a flower,

He has hair which float,

And his fat, strangling hands,

They smell the soap,

Hyacinth, Hyacinth,

I won't confirm my sister to him,

I'll refuse his umbrella,

And I'll not take the escalator,

Ever with him,

Hyacinth, Hyacinth,

Even if he smells of chamomile,

Even if he offers sweets,

Even if I feel at home,

In the presence of a madman,

Hyacinth

He has the laugh of a young girl,

When a Lord's bird,

In his fat, strangling hand,

Came to eat crumbs,

Hyacinth, Hyacinthe,

Maybe it's me who's gone senile,

But if I were a quail,

I would prefer to die from hunger,

Than to eat from the hand

Of Hyacinthe, Hyacinthe,

This formidable fatty,

Has "done" Jeannine more than once

Because with a sanctimonious air,

He breaks a nut,

Myself, I change colour,

I feel myself becoming liquid,

I feel myself falling into the void,

When Hyacinthe the strangler,

Crosses my path,

Hyacinthe

Balding, black beard,

I exaggerate a funnel,

On the side of my exercise book,

I draw a portrait of Hyacinthe

Despite my four-leaved clover,

My communion necklace,

I no longer go to the loo alone

Without apprehension

Hyacinthe, Hyacinthe...

If you meet Hyacinthe,

Before the day he fleed,

So the bell tolls,

So we fret

Without a cry, without a plee;

Without a noise, without a quinte,

You'll leave your fortune behind,

In the region of the moon

Because when he blows a fuse,

He no longer has feelings,

But he has sensitive feet,

And in his house,

Hyacinthe, Hyacinthe

Puts his feet in a basin,

And knocks it over,

That trust is assassinated,

The flower is knocked to the floor,

Hyacinthe, Hyacinthe....

• Artist:Thomas Fersen
• Album:Le pavillon des fous