Lyrics and translation Gilbert Bécaud - C'était moi (Remasterisé)

C'était moi (Remasterisé)

Celui qu′on appelait le voyou de la plage,
Qui vivait tout l'été jambes nues, cheveux fous,
Qui ne pavait jamais les gaufres ni les glaces,
Qui te jetait de l′eau, des algues et des cailloux,
C'était moi!
Mais qui savait le nom des quatre mille étoiles
Et te prenait la main pour mieux te les compter,
Qui faisait d'un orage une carte postale
En dessinant ton cur sur le sable mouillé,
C′était moi, c′était moi!
Celui qui se disait professeur de tendresse,
Qui se moquait de toi quand tu ne voulais pas,
Celui qui se vantait d'avoir eu des princesses
Et de se fiancer, mais de n′épouser pas,
Mais qui riait trop fort en ouvrant ton corsage
Ou qui ne riait plus en touchant tes genoux,
Qui s'endormait tout doux sur ton épaule sage,
Qui t′appelait " pas belle " et qui t'aimait beaucoup,
C′était moi, c'était moi!
Celui qui plaisantait, un matin de septembre,
En piquant une rose à ton manteau de pluie,
Qui te disait " Salut, on allait bien ensemble. "
Et n'en a plus dormi ni le jour ni la nuit,
Celui qui ne sait plus ni ton nom ni ton âge,
Qui ne sait rien de toi, mais que tu es jolie,
Oublie-le ce garçon qui crânait sur la plage
Et croyait tout savoir et n′avait rien compris,
C′était moi, c'était moi!
J′avais quinze ans,
C'était moi!

That Was Me (Remastered)

The one they called the beach bum,
Who lived all summer with bare legs, hair flowing,
Who never paid for waffles or ice cream,
Who threw water, seaweed, and stones at you,
It was me!
But who knew the names of four thousand stars
And took your hand to count them better,
Who turned a storm into a postcard
By drawing your heart on the wet sand,
It was me, it was me!
The one who called himself a professor of tenderness,
Who teased you when you didn't want to,
The one who boasted of having had princesses
And of getting engaged, but not marrying,
But who laughed too hard as he opened your bodice
Or who stopped laughing as he touched your knees,
Who fell asleep gently on your wise shoulder,
Who called you "not beautiful" and who loved you very much,
It was me, it was me!
The one who joked, one September morning,
As he stuck a rose in your raincoat,
Who said, "Hi, we were pretty good together."
And hasn't slept a wink since, day or night,
The one who no longer remembers your name or your age,
Who knows nothing about you, but that you are pretty,
Forget that boy who swaggered on the beach
And thought he knew everything and understood nothing,
It was me, it was me!
I was fifteen,
It was me!