Текст и перевод песни Georges Brassens - La Chasse Aux Papillons (mono)

La Chasse Aux Papillons (mono)

Un bon petit diable à la fleur de l′âge
La jambe légère et l'œil polisson
Et la bouche pleine de joyeux ramages
Allait à la chasse aux papillons

Comme il atteignait l′orée du village
Filant sa quenouille, il vit Cendrillon
Il lui dit: Bonjour, que Dieu te ménage
J't'emmène à la chasse aux papillons

Cendrillon ravie de quitter sa cage
Mets sa robe neuve et ses botillons
Et bras d′ssus bras d′ssous vers les frais bocages
Ils vont à la chasse aux papillons

Ils ne savaient pas que sous les ombrages
Se cachait l'amour et son aiguillon
Et qu′il transperçait les cœurs de leur âge
Les cœurs des chasseurs de papillons

Quand il se fit tendre, elle lui dit: J'présage
Qu′c'est pas dans les plis de mon cotillon
Ni dans l′échancrure de mon corsage
Qu'on va à la chasse aux papillons

Sur sa bouche en feu qui criait: Sois sage!
Il posa sa bouche en guise de baillon
Et c'fut l′plus charmant des remue-ménage
Qu′on ait vu d'mémoire de papillon

Un volcan dans l′âme, ils r'vinrent au village
En se promettant d′aller des millions
Des milliards de fois, et même davantage
Ensemble à la chasse aux papillons

Mais tant qu'ils s′aimeront, tant que les nuages
Porteurs de chagrins, les épargneront
Il fera bon voler dans les frais bocages
Ils feront pas la chasse aux papillons
Pas la chasse aux papillons!

Butterfly Hunting (mono)

A good little devil in the prime of his life
With a light step and a mischievous eye
And a mouth full of joyful warbling
Was going butterfly hunting

As he reached the edge of the village
Spinning her yarn, he saw Cinderella
He said to her: Hello, may God protect you
I'll take you butterfly hunting

Cinderella was delighted to leave her cage
Put on her new dress and her slippers
And arm in arm they went to the cool groves
They go butterfly hunting

They did not know that under the shade
Love and its sting were hidden
And that it pierced the hearts of their age
The hearts of the butterfly hunters

When it grew tender, she said to him: I predict
That it is not in the folds of my petticoat
Nor in the neckline of my bodice
That we go butterfly hunting

On her burning mouth that cried: Be wise!
He placed his mouth as a gag
And it was the most charming commotion
That we have seen in the memory of a butterfly

With a volcano in their souls, they returned to the village
Promising each other to go millions
Billions of times, and even more
Together on a butterfly hunt

But as long as they love each other, as long as the clouds
Carrying sorrows, will spare them
It will be good to fly in the cool groves
They will not hunt butterflies
Not hunting butterflies!