John - Yves Duteil перевод на английский

John

John était amoureux, ça se voyait un peu.
Il avait un air si bizarre et veillait si tard.
Il buvait tant de vin que souvent, le matin,
On pouvait l'entendre de l'étang jusqu'au moulin.
La fille aux longues mains ne disait jamais rien,
Et le pauvre John pensait bien
Qu'à veiller dehors jusqu'au lever du jour,
Il en crèverait ou bien de froid ou bien d'amour.

John avait un béguin, ça se voyait un brin.
Quand il tapait sur sa poitrine en buvant du gin,
Il avait l'oeil hagard, buvait toujours à part,
Poussait des hurlements qui faisaient fuir le vent.
Mais la fille aux longues mains ne disait jamais rien,
Et le pauvre John pensait bien
Qu'à veiller dehors jusqu'au lever du jour,
Il en crèverait ou bien de froid ou bien d'amour.

John était amoureux, il en a fait l'aveu.
Depuis, de la rivière au port, on en rit encore.
Le soir, au coin du feu, on écoute les vieux
Raconter l'histoire de John l'amoureux.
Il aimait la statue d'une belle inconnue
Morte cent ans auparavant dans un ouragan.
Il allait tous les jours lui dire son amour,
Et noyait sa peine dans un verre à son retour.
La fille aux longues mains ne dirait jamais rien,
Et le pauvre John savait bien
Que dans la statue était son coeur et qu'un jour
Il en crèverait ou bien de froid ou bien d'amour,
Que dans la statue était son coeur et qu'un jour
Il en crèverait ou bien de froid ou bien d'amour,

Il en crèverait ou bien de froid ou bien d'amour.

John

John was in love, it was a bit obvious.
He had such a strange air and stayed up so late.
He drank so much wine that often, in the morning,
You could hear him from the pond to the mill.
The girl with the long hands never said anything,
And poor John thought for sure
That by staying up until sunrise,
He would die of it, either from the cold or from love.

John had a crush, it was a bit obvious.
When he tapped his chest while drinking gin,
He had a fierce look, always drank alone,
Pushed out bellows that would make the wind run away.
But the girl with the long hands never said anything,
And poor John thought for sure
That by staying up until sunrise,
He would die of it, either from the cold or from love.

John was in love, he admitted it.
Since then, from the river to the port, we still laugh about it.
In the evening, by the fire, we listen to the old ones
Recall the story of John the lover.
He loved the statue of a beautiful stranger
Who had died a hundred years before in a hurricane.
He went every day to tell her his love,
And drowned his sorrows in a glass on his return.
The girl with the long hands would never say anything,
And poor John knew for sure
That his heart was in the statue and that one day
He would die of it, either from the cold or from love,
That his heart was in the statue and that one day
He would die of it, either from the cold or from love,

He would die of it, either from the cold or from love.