Octobre [English translation]

The branches will creak in the wind,

the mist will come in its white dress.

Everywhere the leaves

will lie on the stones.

October will grasp its revenge.

The sun will barely show up.

Our bodies will hide under bits of wool.

Burried in your shawls

in the evening you will walk past

October asleep near the fountains.

Surely some empty vases

will be seen abandonned

on tin tables

and some clouds caught in the aerials.

I will offer you flowers

and colorful tableclothes

to escape October's grasp.

We will climb high on the hills

and behold all what's lit up by October.

My hands on your hair,

sharing the same scarves

in front of the surrendering world.

Surely on some benches

some old men will sit and remember

and the clouds caught in the aerials.

I will offer you flowers

and colorful tableclothes

to escape October's grasp

And surely some drawings

will appear on the misted windows.

You will play outside

like the children from the north,

maybe October will linger.

You will play outside

like the children from the north,

maybe October will linger.

• Artist:Francis Cabrel
• Album:Samedi Soir Sur La Terre