Paroles et traduction Edith Piaf - Salle D'attente (Live)

Salle D'attente (Live)

L'un pr? s de l'autre, ils? taient l?,
Tous deux assis, comme endormis
Au bord de la banquette en bois
Dans la salle d'attente.
A travers la vitre, on voyait
Le vieux man? ge qui grin? ait
Et sa musique tourbillonnait
Dans la salle d'attente,
Et cette musique semblait pousser
La grande aiguille de la pendule
Avec un bruit d? mesur?,
D? mesur? et ridicule
Et cette pendule les obs? dait,
Cette pendule qui les regardait,
Cette pendule qui tourbillonnait
Dans la salle d'attente,
Et dans leur t? te? a glissait,
Man? ge, musique, pendule...
La pendule devenait man? ge,
Le man? ge devenait pendule,
Et leurs souvenirs, en cort? ge,
Remontaient, d? filaient, s'envolaient...
L'un pr? s de l'autre ils? taient l?,
Tous deux assis, comme endormis
Au bord de la banquette en bois
Dans la salle d'attente
Et quand le train est arriv?,
Tous deux, ils se sont regard? s
Et sans un mot se sont lev? s,
Dans la salle d'attente,
Et dans leur t? te,? a glissait:
Pr? sent, pass?, man? ge...
Les souvenirs devenaient pr? sents.
Le pr? sent devenait souvenir...
Et leurs paroles, en cort? ge,
H? sitaient, se troublaient, s'envolaient.
Quand, dans le train, il est mont?,
C'est elle qui s'en est aper? u
Et en courant est revenue
Dans la salle d'attente
Mais le train avait disparu...
Vous n' trouvez pas que c'est idiot,
Une femme qui marche dans la rue
Avec une musette et un calot?
C't' idiot!...
C't' idiot!...
...C't' idiot!

The Waiting Room (Live)

Side by side, they sat there,
Both of them seated, as if asleep
On a wooden bench
In the waiting room.
Through the window, one could see
The old organ grinder, who grinded
His music spiraled
In the waiting room,
And this music seemed to propel
The large hand of the clock
With a measured noise,
Measured and ridiculous
And this clock obsessed them,
This clock that watched them,
This clock that swirled
In the waiting room,
And in their heads it slipped,
Organ grinder, music, clock...
The clock became an organ grinder,
The organ grinder became a clock,
And their memories, in a procession,
Rose, fell, and flew away...
Side by side they sat there,
Both of them seated, as if asleep
On a wooden bench
In the waiting room
And when the train arrived,
They both looked at each other
And without a word, they stood up,
In the waiting room,
And in their heads it slipped:
Present, past, organ grinder...
Memories became present.
The present became memories...
And their words, in a procession,
Hesitated, became troubled, and flew away.
When he stepped up into the train,
She was the one who noticed
And ran back
To the waiting room
But the train had disappeared...
Don't you think it's foolish,
A woman walking in the street
With a musette and a cap?
It's foolish!...
It's foolish!...
...It's foolish!