Текст и перевод песни Serge Gainsbourg - Lola Rastaquouere (Live)

Lola Rastaquouere (Live)

(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)

Comment oses-tu m'parler d'amour toi hein
Toi qui n'as pas connu Lola Rastaquouère
Je lui faisais le plein comme au Latécoère
Qui décolle en vibrant vers les cieux africains

(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)

Elle avait de ces yeux un vrai chat abyssin
Et ses seins, deux sphères
Entre lesquelles j'abandonnais deux mois de salaire
Pour y rouler mon pauvre joint

(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, Rasta)

Quand dans son sexe cyclopéen
J'enfonçais mon pieu tel l'Ulysse d'Homère
J'l'avais raide plutôt amère
C'est moi grands dieux qui n'y voyais plus rien

(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)

(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)

(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)

(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)

Dans la moiteur torride de sa croupe d'airain
On pouvait voir éclore des renoncules par-derrière
Et par devant un conifère
Me rappelait un air jamaïcain

(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)

(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)
(Lola rastaquouère, rasta)

Lola Rastaquouere (Live)

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

How dare you to talk about love to me, you
You who have not known Lola Rastaquouere
I would fill her tank like the Latécoère
Which takes off with a vibrating towards the African skies

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

She had the eyes of a real Abyssinian cat
And her breasts, two spheres
Between which I would give up two months of salary
To roll my poor joint there

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

When in her cyclopean sex
I thrust my stake like the Ulysses of Homer
I had it stiff, rather bitter
It's me, great gods, who could not see anything

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)

(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)
(Rasta)

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

In the torrid moisture of her brazen rump
One could see buttercups blooming from behind
And in front, a conifer
Reminded me of a Jamaican tune

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)

(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)
(Lola rastaquouère)