Berthe Sylva — Les Roses Blanches song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Les Roses Blanches" by Berthe Sylva.
Lyrics
C'était un gamin, un gosse de Paris,
Pour famille il n’avait qu' sa mère
Une pauvre fille aux grands yeux rougis,
Par les chagrins et la misère
Elle aimait les fleurs, les roses surtout,
Et le cher bambin tous les dimanche
Lui apportait de belles roses blanches,
Au lieu d’acheter des joujoux
La câlinant bien tendrement,
Il disait en les lui donnant:
«C'est aujourd’hui dimanche, tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches, toi qui les aime tant
Va quand je serai grand, j’achèterai au marchand
Toutes ses roses blanches, pour toi jolie maman»
Au printemps dernier, le destin brutal,
Vint frapper la blonde ouvrière
Elle tomba malade et pour l’hôpital,
Le gamin vit partir sa mère
Un matin d’avril parmi les promeneurs
N’ayant plus un sous dans sa poche
Sur un marché tout tremblant le pauvre mioche,
Furtivement vola des fleurs
La marchande l’ayant surpris,
En baissant la tête, il lui dit:
«C'est aujourd’hui dimanche et j’allais voir maman
J’ai pris ces roses blanches elle les aime tant
Sur son petit lit blanc, là-bas elle m’attend
J’ai pris ces roses blanches, pour ma jolie maman»
La marchande émue, doucement lui dit,
«Emporte-les je te les donne»
Elle l’embrassa et l’enfant partit,
Tout rayonnant qu’on le pardonne
Puis à l’hôpital il vint en courant,
Pour offrir les fleurs à sa mère
Mais en le voyant, une infirmière,
Tout bas lui dit «Tu n’as plus de maman»
Et le gamin s’agenouillant dit,
Devant le petit lit blanc:
«C'est aujourd’hui dimanche, tiens ma jolie maman
Voici des roses blanches, toi qui les aimais tant
Et quand tu t’en iras, au grand jardin là-bas
Toutes ces roses blanches, tu les emporteras»
Lyrics translation
He was a kid, a kid from Paris.,
For family he had only his mother
Poor girl with big red eyes,
Through sorrows and misery
She loved flowers, especially roses,
And the dear child every Sunday
Brought her beautiful white roses,
Instead of buying toys
Cuddling her very tenderly,
He said by giving them to him:
"It's today Sunday, Hold My Pretty mom
Here are white roses, you who love them so much
Go when I grow up, I'll buy from the merchant
All her white roses, for you pretty mom»
Last spring, brutal fate,
Came to bang the blonde worker
She fell ill and for the hospital,
The kid lives to leave his mother
An April morning among walkers
Having no more money in his pocket
In a market all trembling poor mioche,
Stealthily flew flowers
The merchant surprised him,
Lowering his head, he tells her:
"It's today Sunday and I was going to see mom
I took those white roses she loves them so much
On her little white bed, there she is waiting for me
I took these white roses, for my pretty mom»
The merchant moved, gently told him,
"Take them away I give them to you»
She kissed him and the child left,
All radiant that we forgive him
Then to the hospital he came running,
To offer the flowers to his mother
But seeing him, a nurse,
Down low he says " you don't have a mom anymore»
And the kid kneeling says,
In front of the small white bed:
"It's today Sunday, Hold My Pretty mom
Here are white roses, you who loved them so much
And when you leave, to the big garden over there
All those white roses, you'll take them away»