Paroles et traduction Lucienne Delyle - Les roses blanches

Les roses blanches

C′était un gamin, un gosse de Paris
Pour famille il n'avait qu′ sa mère
Une pauvre fille aux grands yeux rougis
Par les chagrins et la misère
Elle aimait les fleurs, les roses surtout
Et le cher bambin tous les dimanche
Lui apportait de belles roses blanches
Au lieu d'acheter des joujoux
La câlinant bien tendrement
Il disait en les lui donnant:
"C'est aujourd′hui dimanche, tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches, toi qui les aime tant
Va quand je serai grand, j′achèterai au marchand
Toutes ses roses blanches, pour toi jolie maman"
Au printemps dernier, le destin brutal
Vint frapper la blonde ouvrière
Elle tomba malade et pour l'hôpital
Le gamin vit partir sa mère
Un matin d′avril parmi les promeneurs
N'ayant plus un sous dans sa poche
Sur un marché tout tremblant le pauvre mioche
Furtivement vola des fleurs
La marchande l′ayant surpris
En baissant la tête, il lui dit:
"C'est aujourd′hui dimanche et j'allais voir maman
J'ai pris ces roses blanches elle les aime tant
Sur son petit lit blanc, là-bas elle m′attend
J′ai pris ces roses blanches, pour ma jolie maman"
La marchande émue, doucement lui dit
"Emporte-les je te les donne"
Elle l'embrassa et l′enfant partit
Tout rayonnant qu'on le pardonne
Puis à l′hôpital il vint en courant
Pour offrir les fleurs à sa mère
Mais en le voyant, une infirmière
Tout bas lui dit "Tu n'as plus de maman"
Et le gamin s′agenouillant dit
Devant le petit lit blanc:
"C'est aujourd'hui dimanche, tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches, toi qui les aimais tant
Et quand tu t′en iras, au grand jardin là-bas
Toutes ces roses blanches, tu les emporteras"

The White Roses

He was just a kid, a street urchin in Paris
His only family was his mother
A poor girl with big red eyes
From the sorrows and miseries
She loved flowers, especially roses
And every Sunday the dear little boy
Brings her beautiful white roses
Instead of buying toys
Caressing her tenderly
He said, as he gave them to her:
"It's Sunday today, here you go my pretty mother
Here are some white roses, which you love so much
You see, when I grow up, I'll buy from the merchant
All these white roses, for you my pretty mother"
Last spring, the brutal fate
Struck the blonde worker
She fell ill and for the hospital
The boy saw his mother leave
One April morning among the strollers
Not having a penny in his pocket
In a market, all trembling, the poor kid
Stealthily stole flowers
The saleswoman having surprised him
Lowering his head, he told her:
"It's Sunday today and I was going to see my mother
I took these white roses, she loves them so much
On her little white bed, there she waits for me
I took these white roses, for my beautiful mother"
The saleswoman, moved, gently told him:
"Take them, they're yours"
She kissed him and the child left
All beaming that we forgive him
Then he came running to the hospital
To offer the flowers to his mother
But seeing him, a nurse
Whispered to him "You no longer have a mother"
And the boy kneeling down said
In front of the little white bed:
"It's Sunday today, here you go my pretty mother
Here are some white roses, which you loved so much
And when you leave, to the big garden over there
You'll take all these white roses with you"