You were dancing there little girl
Will you dance there mother-grandmother
It’s the maclotte that skips
All the bells will ring
When will you be back Mary

The masks are silent
And the music is so far away
That it seems to come from the skies
Yes I want to love you but barely love you
And my pain is delicious

The sheep go away in the snow
Flakes of wool and those of silver
Soldiers pass and what have I
A heart me this changing heart
Changing and then again what do I know

Do I know where your hair will go
Frizzy like the foaming sea
Do I know where your hair will go
And your hands fall leaves
Which also litter our confessions

I passed by the banks of the Seine
An old book under the arm
The river is like my pain
It flows and does not dry up
When will the week end?